They looked up at his approach and Sylvester came
forward.
"This is my wife, sir," he explained, and Kent bowed courteously to
Mrs. Sylvester. "We were just reading this account of Mr. Rochester's
disappearance; it's dreadful, sir, to think that the police believe
him guilty of Mr. Turn
bull's murder."
"Dreadful, indeed," agreed Kent; the news had been published even
sooner than he had imagined. "What paper is that?"
"The noon edition of the Times." Sylvester handed it to him.
"Thanks," Kent flung down his hat and spread open the paper. "Who
have been here to-day?"
"Colonel McIntyre, sir; he left a card for you." Sylvester hurried
into Kent's office, to return a moment later with a visiting card.
"He left this, sir, for you with most particular directions that it
be handed to you at once on your arrival."
Kent read the curt message on the card without comment and tore the
paste-board into tiny bits.
"Any one else been in this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, sir." Sylvester consulted a written memorandum. "Mr.
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