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 and then I went out to Hendon and looked at Roseye's machine still there. Her mechanic, whom Sir Herbert still kept on—he being unfit for military service—hung about the aerodrome and smoked 'yellow perils' awaiting his mistress's return.

Once or twice, on bright days, I made a short flight just to keep fit. Otherwise I generally remained at home in my rooms pondering, or else out trying to follow some imaginary clue to which my theory led me.

Lionel Eastwell always expressed himself full of sympathy. Many times we met at the club and elsewhere, and he always expressed his belief that Roseye was somewhere with friends. Indeed, he seemed full of optimism.

'My firm opinion is that Miss Lethmere has met with an accident, and is in some hospital or other—some cottage hospital perhaps. Maybe she has lost her memory as result of her unfortunate mishap,' he suggested one day. 'There are lots of such cases recorded in the papers.'

Truth to tell, my suspicion of Lionel Eastwell had daily increased. First, he had always appeared far too inquisitive regarding our experimental work. Secondly, he had been ever polite and affable towards Roseye with a view, it seemed, of preserving an extremely close friendship. Why, I wondered? I knew that she had liked him for his courtesy and pleasant demeanour ever since they had first met. And the point that they had first met in Germany I had never forgotten. It had increased my suspicion—and pointedly so.

The most puzzling fact concerning him, however,