MR. FORTUNE EXPLAINS by H.C. BAILEY, 1931

and portrait?” “There isn't a portrait. Description is small, fair, bobbed, nice grey eyes, just sweet.” “That would only get you about a million girls.” “Yes. I had thought of that, Lomas dear. We won't advertise anything yet. The people who've been keeping her might do something hasty.” “What have you got in your head?” Lomas cried. “Nothing. Nothing. That's what worries me. You don't feel a vacancy. Well, well. I want some sound fellow to take up the case, some fellow that's a man and a brother.” He smiled on Superintendent Bell. “Yes. Bell is strongly indicated.” Thank you, sir.” Bell was pleased and uncomfortable. “I'd be very happy. But I don't see my way.” “Nor do I. Come and have a look at Celia's lodgings and Celia's shop.” “You're for it, Bell,” Lomas chuckled. “Take him away. Make him buy her a wedding present.” Reggie gazed at him with melancholy wonder and went out. “Queer, how it's taken him, sir.” Bell rose. “I'd say there's nothing in it myself—but he has a way of feeling things.” “Confound him!” said Lomas. “Confound you. Bell! Go away.” Mr. Fortune's car bore him and Bell into the depths of Camden Town. Navarino Street is shabby genteel houses, all stucco and lace curtains. The inside of number seven fulfilled dismally the promise of the outside. It smelt musty, its landlady was of a dingy and acid propriety, her parlour plush and antimacassars. By the dignity of Superintendent Bell she was unawed. She became shrill with many grievances. She was a respectabl