leading authority on the subject, and I was to get from him whether the thing suggested was any way possible.”
“And was it?” I asked eagerly.
“That’s just what I don’t know. I haven’t seen Mr. Halliday—and I’m not likely to, by all accounts.”
“The truth of the matter is,” said Japp shortly, “Halliday’s disappeared.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Was his disappearance reported?”
“Of course it was. His wife came to us in a great state. We did what we could, but I knew all along it would be no good.”
“Why not?”
“Never is—when a man disappears that way.” Japp winked.
“What way?”
“Paris.”
“So Halliday disappeared in Paris?”
“Yes. Went over there on scientific work—so he said. Of course, he’d have to say something like that. But you know what it means when a man disappears over there. Either it’s Apache work, and that’s the end of it—or else it’s voluntary disappearance—and that’s a great deal the commoner of the two, I can tell you. Gay Paree and all that, you know. Sick of home life. Halliday and his wife had had a tiff before he started, which all helps to make it a pretty clear case.”