who had just jumped out of a taxi-cab, and was advancing upon them. He
came up and addressed them jointly--would they go back with him at once
to New Scotland Yard?--the chief wanted to see them for a few minutes.

"Come on, Allerdyke," said Fullaway. "We'd better go at once. Van Koon,"
he continued, turning to his compatriot, "do me a favour--just look in at
my rooms upstairs, and tell Mrs. Marlow, if she's come--she hadn't
arrived when I was up there ten minutes ago--that I'm called out for an
hour or so--ask her to attend to anything that turns up until I come
back--shan't be long."

Van Koon nodded and walked back into the hotel, while Allerdyke and
Fullaway joined the detective in the cab and set out westward.

"What is it?" asked Fullaway. "Something new?"

"Can't say, exactly," replied Blindway. "The chief's got some woman there
who thinks she can tell something about the French maid, so he sent me
for you, and he's sent another man for Miss Lennard. It may be something
good; it mayn't. Otherwise," he concluded with a shake of the head that
was almost dismal, "otherwise, I don't know of anything new. Never knew
of a case in my life, gentlemen, in which less turned up than's turning
up in this affair! And fifty thousand pounds going a-begging!"

"I suppose this woman's after it," remarked Fullaway. "You didn't hear of
anything she had to tell?"

"Nothing," answered Blindway. "You'll hear it in a minute or two."

He took them straight up into the same room, and the same official whom
they had previously seen, and who now sat at his desk with Celia Lennard
on one side of him, and a middle-aged woman, evidently of the poorer
classes, on the other. Allerdyke and Fullaway, after a brief interchange
of salutations with the official and the prima donna, looked at the
stranger--a quiet, respectably-dressed woman who united a natural shyness
with an evident determination to go through with the business that had
brought her there. She was just the sort of woman who can be seen by the
hundred--laundress, seamstress, charwoman, caretaker, got up in her
Sunday best. Odd, indeed, it would be, thought Allerdyke, if this quiet,
humble-looking creature should give information which would place fifty
thousand pounds at her command!

"This is Mrs. Perrigo," said the chief pleasantly, as he motioned the two
men to chairs near Celia's and beckoned Blindway to his side. "Mrs.
Perrigo, of--where is it, ma'am?"

"I live in Alpha Place, off Park Street, sir," announced Mrs. Perrigo,
in a small, quiet voice. "Number 14, sir. I'm a clear-starcher by
trade, sir."

"Put that down, Blindway," said the chief, "and take a note of what Mrs.
Perrigo tells us. Now, Mrs. Perrigo, you think you've seen the dead
woman, Lisette Beaurepaire, at some time or another, in company with a
young man? Where and when was this?"

"Well, three times, sir. Three times that I'm certain of--there was
another time that I wasn't certain about; at least, that I'm not certain
about now. If I could just tell you about it in my way, sir--"

"Certainly--certainly, Mrs. Perrigo! Exactly what I wish. Tell us all
about it in your own way. Take your own time."

"Well, sir, it 'ud be, as near as I can fix it, about the middle of
March--two months ago, sir," began Mrs. Perrigo. "You see, I had the
misfortune to burn my right hand very badly, sir, and having to put my
work aside, and it being nice weather, and warm for the time of year, I
used to go and sit in Kensington Gardens a good deal, which, of course,
was when I see this young lady whose picture's been in the paper of
late, and--"

"A moment, Mrs. Perrigo," interrupted the official. "Miss Lennard, it
will simplify matters considerably if I ask you a question. Were you and
your late maid in town about the time Mrs. Perrigo speaks of--the middle
of March?"

"Yes," replied Celia promptly. "We were here from March 3rd, when we came
back from the Continent, to March 29th, when we left for Russia."

"Continue, Mrs. Perrigo, if you please," said the official. "Take your
time--tell things your own way."

"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Perrigo dutifully. "If you please, sir. Well,
when I see those pictures in the papers--several papers, sir--of the
young lady with the foreign name I says to myself, and to my neighbour,
Mrs. Watson, which is all I ever talk much to, 'That,' I says, 'is the
young woman I see in Kensington Gardens a time or two and remarks of for
her elegant figure and smart air in general--I could have picked her out
from a thousand,' I says. Which there was, and is a particular spot,
sir, in Kensington Gardens where I used to sit, and you pays a penny for
a chair, which I did, and there's other chairs about, near a fallen
tree, which is still there, for I went to make sure last night, and
there, on three afternoons while I was there, this young lady came at
about, say, four o'clock each time, and was met by this here young man
what I don't remember as clear as I remember her, me not taking so much
notice of him. And--"

"Another moment, Mrs. Perrigo." The chief turned again to Celia. "Did
your maid ever go out in the afternoons about that time?" he asked.

"Probably every afternoon," replied Celia. "I myself was away from London
from the 11th to the 18th of March, staying with friends in the country.
I didn't take her with me--so, of course, she'd nothing to do but follow
her own inclinations."

The chief turned to Mrs. Perrigo again.

"Yes?" he said. "You saw the young woman whose photograph you have seen
in the papers meet a young man in Kensington Gardens on three separate
occasions. Yes?"

"Three separate occasions, close by--on penny chairs, sir, where they sat
and talked foreign, which I didn't understand--and on another occasion,
when I see 'em walking by the Round Pond, me being at some distance, but
recognizing her by her elegant figure. I took particular notice of the
young woman's face, sir, me being a noticing person, and I'll take my
dying oath, if need be, that this here picture is hers!"

Mrs. Perrigo here produced a much worn and crumpled illustrated newspaper
and laid her hand solemnly upon it. That done, she shook her head.

"But I ain't so certain about the young man as met her," she said
sorrowfully. "Him I did not notice with such attention, being, as I say,
more attracted to her. All the same, he was a young man--and spoke the
same foreign language as what she did. Of them facts, sure I am, sir."

"They sat near you, Mrs. Perrigo?"

"As near, sir, as I am now to that lady. And paid their pennies for their
chairs in my presence; leastways, the young man paid. Always the same
place it was, and always the same time--three days all within a week, and
then the day when I see 'em walking at a distance."

"Can't you remember anything about the young man, Mrs. Perrigo?" asked
the chief. "Come!--try to think. That is the really important thing.
You must have some recollection of him, you know, some idea of what he
was like."

Mrs. Perrigo took a corner of her shawl between her fingers and proceeded
to fold and pleat it while she thoughtfully fixed her eyes on Blindway's
unmoved countenance, as if to find inspiration there. And after a time
she nodded her head as though memory had stirred within her.

"Which every time I see him," she said, with an evident quickening of
interest, "he had two of them dogs with him what has turned-up noses and
twisted tails."

"Pugs?" suggested the chief.

"No doubt that is their name, sir, but unbeknown to me as I never kept
such an animal," answered Mrs. Perrigo. "My meaning being clear, no
doubt, and there being no mistaking of 'em--their tails and noses being
of that order. And had 'em always on a chain--gentlemen's dogs you could
see they was, and carefully looked after with blue bows at the back of
their necks, same as if they was Christians. And him, I should say,
speaking from memory, a dark young man--such is my recollection."

"It comes to this," remarked the chief, looking at the three listeners
with a smile. "Mrs. Perrigo says that she is certain that upon three
occasions about the middle of March last she witnessed meetings at a
particular spot in Kensington Gardens between a young woman answering the
description and photographs of Lisette Beaurepaire and a young man of
whom she cannot definitely remember anything except that she thinks he
was dark, spoke a foreign language, and was in charge of two pug dogs
which wore blue ribbons. That's it, isn't it, Mrs. Perrigo?"

"And willing to take my solemn oath of the same whenever convenient,
sir," replied Mrs. Perrigo. "And if so be as what I've told you should
lead to anything, gentlemen--and lady--I can assure you that me being a
poor widow, and--"

Five minutes later, Mrs. Perrigo, with some present reward in her pocket,
was walking quietly up Whitehall with a composed countenance, while
Allerdyke, already late for his Gresham Street appointment, sped towards
the City as fast as a hastily chartered taxi-cab could carry him. And
all the way thither, being alone, he repeated certain words over and
over again.

"A dark young man who led two pugs--a dark young man who led two pugs!
With blue ribbons on their necks--with blue ribbons on their necks, same
as Christians!"




CHAPTER XXII

THICK FOG


It was half-past eleven when Allerdyke reached Gresham Street: by
half-past one, so curiously and rapidly did events crowd upon each other,
he was in a state of complete mental confusion. He sat down to lunch that
day feeling as a man feels who has lost his way in an unknown country in
the midst of a blinding mist; as a weaver might feel who is at work on an
intricate pattern and suddenly finds all his threads inextricably mixed
up and tangled. Instead of things getting better and clearer, that
morning's work made them more hopelessly muddled.

Chettle was hanging about the door of the warehouse when Allerdyke drove
up. His usually sly look was accentuated that morning, and as soon as
Allerdyke stepped from his cab he drew him aside with a meaning gesture.

"A word or two before we go in, Mr. Allerdyke," he said as they walked a
few steps along the street. "Look here, sir," he went on in a whisper.
"I've been reflecting on things since I saw you last night. Of course,
I'm supposed to be in Hull, you know. But I shall have to report myself
at the Yard this morning--can't avoid that. And I shall have to tell
them why I came up. Now, it's here, Mr. Allerdyke--how much or how
little shall I tell 'em? What I mean sir, is this--do you want to keep
any of this recently acquired knowledge to yourself? Of course, if you
do--well, I needn't tell any more there--at headquarters--than you wish
me to tell. I can easy make excuse for coming up. And, of course, in
that case--"

"Well!" demanded Allerdyke impatiently. "What then?"

Chettle gave him another look of suggestive meaning, and taking off his
square felt hat, wiped his forehead with a big coloured handkerchief.

"Well, of course, Mr. Allerdyke," he said insinuatingly. "Of course, sir,
I'm a poor man, and I've a rising family that I want to do my best for. I
could do with a substantial amount of that reward, you know, Mr.
Allerdyke. We've all a right to do the best we can for ourselves, sir.
And if you're wanting to, follow this affair out on your own, sir,
independent of the police--eh?"

Allerdyke's sense of duty arose in strong protest against this very
palpable suggestion. He shook his head.

"No--no!" he said. "That won't do, Chettle. You must do your duty to your
superiors. You'll find that you'll be all right. If the police solve this
affair, that reward'll go to the police, and you'll get your proper
share. No--no underhand work. You make your report in your ordinary way.
No more of that!"

"Aye, but do you understand, Mr. Allerdyke?" said the detective
anxiously. "Do you comprehend what it'll mean. You know very well that
there's a lot of red tape in our work--they go a great deal by rule and
precedent, as you might say. Now, if I go to the Yard--as I shall have
to, as soon as you've done with me--and tell the chief that I've found
this photo of your cousin in Lydenberg's watch, and that you're certain
that your cousin gave that particular photo to Mrs. Marlow, alias Miss
Slade, do you know what'll happen?"

"What?" asked Allerdyke.

"They'll arrest her within half an hour," answered Chettle.
"Dead certain!"

"Well?" said Allerdyke. "And--what then!"

"Why, it'll probably upset the whole bag of tricks!" exclaimed Chettle.
"The thing'll be spoiled before we've properly worked it out. See?"

Allerdyke did see. He had sufficient knowledge of police matters to know
that Chettle was right, and that a too hasty step would probably ruin
everything. He turned towards the warehouse.

"Just so," he said. "I take your meaning. Now then, come in, and we'll
put it before my manager, Mr. Appleyard. I've great faith in his
judgment--let's see what he's got to say."

The two Gaffneys were waiting just within the packingroom of the
warehouse. Allerdyke bade them wait a little longer, and took the
detective straight into Appleyard's office. There, behind the closed
door, he told Appleyard of everything that had happened since their last
meeting, and of what Chettle had just said. The problem was, in view of
all that, of the mysterious proceedings of Mrs. Marlow the night before,
and of what Allerdyke had just heard at New Scotland Yard--what was best
to be done, severally and collectively, by all of them?

Ambler Appleyard grasped the situation at once and solved the problem in
a few direct words. There was no need whatever, he said, for Chettle to
do more than his plain duty, no need for him to exceed it. He was bound,
being what he was, to make his report about his discovery of the
photograph and the writing on it. That he must do. But he was not bound
to tell anything that Allerdyke had told him: he was not bound to give
information which Allerdyke had collected. Let Chettle go and tell the
plain facts about his own knowledge of the photo and leave Allerdyke,
for the moment, clean out of the question. Allerdyke himself could go
with his news in due course. And, wound up Appleyard, who had a keen
knowledge of human nature and saw deep into Chettle's mind, Mr. Allerdyke
would doubtless see that Chettle lost nothing by holding his tongue about
anything that wasn't exactly ripe for discussion. At present, he
repeated, let Chettle do his duty--not exceed it.

"That's it," agreed Allerdyke. "You've hit it, Ambler. You go and tell
what you know of your own knowledge," he went on, turning to Chettle.
"Leave me clean out for the time being. I'll come in at the right moment.
Say naught about me or of what I've told you. And if you're sent back to
Hull, just contrive to see me before you go. And, as Mr. Appleyard says,
I'll see you're all right, anyhow."

When Chettle had gone, Allerdyke closed the door on him and turned to his
manager with a knowing look.

"That chap's right, you know, Ambler," he said. "A false move, a too
hasty step'll ruin everything. If that woman's startled--if she gets a
suspicion--egad, it's all mixed up about as badly as can be! Now, about
these Gaffneys?"

"Wait a while," said Appleyard. "I don't know that we want their services
just yet. I've found out a thing or two that may be useful. About this
man Rayner now, who's in evident close touch with Miss Slade (by the by,
you saw her at the Waldorf at half-past eleven last night, and I saw her
come into the Pompadour at half-past twelve, with Rayner), and about whom
we accordingly want to know something--I've found out, through ordinary
business channels, that he does carry on a business at Clytemnestra
House, in Arundel Street, under the name of Gavin Ramsay. And--if we want
to know more of him--I've an idea. You go and see him, Mr. Allerdyke--on
business."

"I? Business?" exclaimed Allerdyke. "What sort of business?"

"He's an inventor's agent," replied Appleyard. "It's a profession I never
heard of before, but he seems to act as a go-between. Folks that have got
an invention go to him--he helps 'em about it--helps 'em to perfect it,
patent it, get it on the market. You've a good excuse--there's that
patent railway chair of your man Gankrodgers, been lying there in that
corner for the past year, and you promised Gankrodgers you'd help him
about it. Put it in a cab and go to this Rayner, or Ramsay--there's your
excuse, and you can say you heard of him in the City, from
Wilmingtons--it was they who told me what he was. It's a good notion, Mr.
Allerdyke."

"What object?" asked Allerdyke.

"Simply to get a look at him," replied Appleyard. "Look here--you know
very well that there's a strong suspicion against Miss Slade. Miss Slade,
to my knowledge, is in close touch, with Rayner. Therefore, let's know
what we can about Rayner. You're the man to go and see him at his own
place. Do it--and we'll consider the question of having him watched by
the two Gaffneys when you've seen and talked to him."

Allerdyke considered this somewhat strange proposal in silence for a
while. At last he rose with a look of decision.

"Well, I've certainly a good excuse," he said. "Here, have that thing
packed up and put in a cab--I'll go."

Half an hour later he found himself shown into a smartly furnished office
where Mr. Gavin Ramsay sat at a handsome desk surrounded by shelves and
cabinets whereon and wherein were set out the products of the brains of
many inventors--models of machines, mechanical toys, labour-saving
notions, things plainly useful, things obviously extravagant. The
occupant of this museum glanced at Allerdyke and the box which he carried
with an amused smile, and Allerdyke said to himself that Appleyard was
right in his description--if the man was crippled and deformed he
certainly possessed a beautiful face.

"Mr. Marshall Allerdyke," said the hope of inventors, glancing at the
card which his visitor had sent in.

"The same, sir," replied Allerdyke, setting down his box. "Mr. Ramsay, I
presume? I heard of you, Mr. Ramsay, through Wilmingtons, in the City;
heard you can be of great use to inventors. I have here," he continued,
opening the box, "a railway chair, invented by one of my workmen, a
clever fellow. You see, it 'ud do away with the present system of putting
wooden blocks in the chairs now used--this would fasten the sleepers and
rails together automatically. It is patented--provisionally protected,
anyhow--but my man's never got a railway company to try it, so far. Think
you can do anything, Mr. Ramsay?"

The hunchback got up from his desk, took the invention out of its box,
and carefully inspected it, asking Allerdyke a few shrewd questions about
the thing's possibilities which showed the caller that he knew what he
was talking about. Then he sat down again and went into business details
in a way which impressed Allerdyke--clearly this man, whoever he was, and
whatever mystery might attach to him, was a smart individual. Also he had
a frank, direct way of talking which gave his visitor a very good first
opinion of him.

"Very well, Mr. Allerdyke," he said, in conclusion. "Leave the thing
with me, and I will see what I can do. As I say, the proper course will
be to get it tried on one of the smaller railway lines--if it answers
there, we can, perhaps, induce one of the bigger companies to take it up.
I'll do my best."

Allerdyke thanked him and rose. He had certainly done something for his
man Gankrodgers, and he had seen Ramsay, or Rayner, at close quarters,
but--Ramsay was speaking again. He had picked up Allerdyke's card, and
glanced from it to its presenter, half shyly.

"You're the cousin of the Mr. Allerdyke whose name's been in the papers
so much in connection with this murder and robbery affair, I suppose?" he
said. "I've seen your own name, of course, in the various accounts."

"I am," replied Allerdyke. He had moved towards the door, but he turned
and looked at his questioner. "You followed it, then?" he asked.

"Yes," assented Ramsay. "Closely. A curiously intricate case."

"Any solution of it present itself to your mind?" asked Allerdyke in his
brusque, downright fashion. "Got any theory?"

Ramsay smiled and shook his finely shaped head. He, too, rose, walking
towards the door.

"It's a little early for that, isn't it?" he said. "I've studied these
affairs--criminology, you know--for many years. In my opinion, it's a
mistake to be too hasty in trying to arrive at solutions. But," he added,
with a shrug of his misshapen shoulders, "it's always the way of the
police, and of most folk who try to get at the truth. Things that are
deep down need some deep digging for!"

"There's the question of the present whereabouts of nearly three
hundred thousand pounds' worth of jewels," remarked Allerdyke grimly.
"Remember that!"

"Quite so," agreed Ramsay. "But--your own particular and personal desire,
as I gather from the newspapers, is to find the murderer of your cousin?"

"Ah!" said Allerdyke. "And it is! Got any ideas on that point?"

Ramsay smiled as he opened the door.

"I think," he said, with a quiet significance. "I think that you'll be
having all this mystery explained and cleared up all of a sudden, Mr.
Allerdyke, in a way that'll surprise you. These things are like
warfare--there's a sudden turn of events, a sudden big event just when
you're not expecting it. Well, good-bye--thank you for giving me a chance
with your man's invention."

Allerdyke found himself walking up Arundel Street before he had quite
realized that this curious interview was over. At the top he paused,
staring vacantly at the folk who passed and repassed along the Strand.

"I'd lay a pound to a penny that chap's all right," he muttered to
himself. "He's not a wrong 'un--unless he's damned deceitful! All the
same, he knows something! What? My conscience!--was there ever such a
confounded muddle in this world as this is!"

But the muddle was a deeper one within the next few minutes. He crossed
over to his hotel, and as he was entering he met Mrs. Marlow coming out,
fresh, dainty, charming, as usual. She stopped at sight of him and held
up the little hand-bag which hung from her wrist.

"Oh, Mr. Allerdyke!" she said, opening the bag and taking an envelope
from it. "I've something for you. See--here's the photograph your cousin
gave me. You were wrong, you see--there's no spot in it--it's a
particularly clear print. Look!"

In Allerdyke's big palm she laid the very photograph which, according to
all his reckoning, was that which Chettle had found within the cover of
Lydenberg's watch.




CHAPTER XXIII

THE POSSIBLE DEATH WARRANT


"Quite a clear print, you see," repeated Mrs. Marlow brightly. "No spot
there. You must have been thinking of another."

"Aye, just so," replied Allerdyke absentmindedly. "Another, yes, of
course. Aye, to be sure--you're right. No spot on that, certainly."

He was talking aimlessly, confusedly, as he turned the print over in his
hand, examining it back and front. And having no excuse for keeping it,
he handed it back with a keen look at its owner. What the devil, he asked
himself, was this mysterious woman playing at?

"I'm going to have this mounted and framed," said Mrs. Marlow, as she put
the photograph back in her bag and turned to go. "I misplaced it some
time ago and couldn't lay hands on it, but I came across it by accident
this morning, so now I'll take care of it."

She nodded, smiled, and went off into the sunlight outside, and
Allerdyke, more puzzled than ever, walked forward into the hotel and
towards the restaurant. At its door he met Fullaway, coming out, and in
his usual hurry.

Fullaway started at sight of Allerdyke, button-holed him, and led him
into a corner.

"Oh, I say, Allerdyke!" he said, in his bustling fashion. "Look here, a
word with you. You've no objection, have you?" he went on in subdued
tones, "if Van Koon and I have a try for that reward? It doesn't matter
to you, or to the Princess, or to Miss Lennard, who gets the reward so
long as the criminals are brought to justice and the goods found--eh? And
you know fifty thousand is--what it is."

"You've got an idea?" asked Allerdyke, regarding his questioner steadily.

"Frankly, yes--an idea--a notion," answered Fullaway. "Van Koon and I
have been discussing the whole affair--just now. He's a smart man, and
has had experience in these things on the other side. But, of course, we
don't want to give our idea away. We want to work in entire independence
of the police, for instance. What we're thinking of requires patience and
deep investigation. So we want to work on our own methods. See?"

"It doesn't matter to me who gets the reward--as you say," said Allerdyke
slowly. "I want justice. I'm not so much concerned about the jewels as
about who killed my cousin. I believe that man Lydenberg did the actual
killing--but who was at Lydenberg's back? Find that out, and--"

"Exactly--exactly!" broke in Fullaway. "The very thing! Well--you
understand, Allerdyke. Van Koon and I will want to keep our operations to
ourselves. We don't want police interference. So, if any of these
Scotland Yard chaps come to you here for talk or information, don't bring
me into it. And don't expect me to tell what we're doing until we've
carried out our investigations. No interim reports, you know, Allerdyke.
Personally, I believe we're on the track."

"Do just what you please," replied Allerdyke. "You're not the only two
who are after that reward. Go ahead--your own way."

He turned into the restaurant and ordered his lunch, and while it was
being brought sat drumming his fingers on the table, staring vacantly at
the people about him and wondering over the events of the morning.
Rayner's, or Ramsay's, vague hint that something might suddenly clear
everything up; Fullaway's announcement that he and Van Koon had put their
heads together; Mrs. Perrigo's story of the French maid and the young man
who led blue-ribboned pug-dogs--but all these were as nothing compared to
the fact that Mrs. Marlow had actually shown him the photograph which he
had until then firmly believed to lie hidden in the case of Lydenberg's
watch. That beat him.

"Is my blessed memory going wrong?" he said to himself. "Did I actually
print more than four copies of that thing! No--no!--I'm shot if I did.
My memory never fails. I did not print off more than four. James had
three; I had one. Mine's in my album upstairs. I know what James did
with his. Cousin Grace has one; Wilson Firth has another; he gave the
third to this Mrs. Marlow--and she's got it! Then--how the devil did
that photograph, which looks to be of my taking, which I'd swear is of
my taking, come to be in Lydenberg's watch? Gad--it's enough to make a
man's brain turn to pap!"

He was moodily finishing his lunch when Chettle came in to find him.
Allerdyke, who was in a quiet corner, beckoned the detective to a seat,
and offered him a drink.

"Well?" he asked. "What's been done?"

"It's all right," answered Chettle. "I've told no more than was
necessary--just what we agreed upon. To tell you the truth, our folks
don't attach such tremendous importance to it--they will, of course, when
you tell them your story about the photo. Just at present they merely see
the obvious fact--that Lydenberg was furnished with the photo as a means
of ready identification of your brother. No--at this moment they're full
of the Perrigo woman's story--they think that's a sure clue--a good
beginning. Somebody, they say, must own, or have owned, those pugs!
Therefore they're going strong on that. Meanwhile, I'm going back to Hull
for at any rate a few days."

"You've still got that watch on you?" asked Allerdyke.

"Certainly," answered Chettle, clapping his hand to his breast-pocket.
"Technically speaking, it's in charge of the Hull police--it'll have to
be produced there. Did you want to see it again, Mr. Allerdyke?"

"Finish your drink and come up to my sitting-room," said Allerdyke. "I'll
give you a cigar up there. Yes," he added, as they left the restaurant
and went upstairs. "I do want to see it again--or, rather, the
photograph. You're in no hurry?"

"A good hour to spare yet," replied Chettle.

Allerdyke locked the door of the sitting-room when they were once inside
it, and that done he placed a decanter, a syphon, and a glass on his
table, and flanked them with a box of cigars. He waved a hospitable hand
towards these comforts.

"Sit down and help yourself, Chettle," he said. "A drop of my whisky'll
do you no harm--that's some I got down from home, and you'll not find its
like everywhere. Light a cigar--and put a couple in your pocket to smoke
in the train. Now then, let's see that photograph once more."

Chettle handed over the watch, and Allerdyke, opening the case,
delicately removed the print. He sat down at the table with his back to
the light, and carefully examined the thing back and front, while the
detective, glass in hand, cigar in lips, and thumb in the armhole of his
waistcoat, watched him appreciatively and inquisitively.

"Make aught new out of it, sir?" he asked after a while.

Instead of answering, Allerdyke laid the photograph down, went across to
another table, and took from it his album. He turned its leaves over
until he came to a few loose prints. He picked them up one after another
and examined them. And suddenly he knew the secret. There was no longer
any problem, any difficulty about that photograph. He knew--now! And with
a sharp exclamation, he flung the album back to the side-table, and
turned to the detective.

"Chettle!" he said. "You know me well enough to know that I can make it
well worth any man's while to keep a secret until I tell him he can speak
about it! What!"

"I should think so, Mr. Allerdyke," responded Chettle, readily enough.
"And if you want me to keep a secret--"

"I do--for the time being," answered Allerdyke. He sat down again and
picked up the photograph which had exercised his thoughts so intensely.
"I've found out the truth concerning this," he said, tapping it with his
finger. "Yes, I've hit it! Listen, now--I told you I'd only made four
prints of this photo, and that I knew exactly where they all were--one in
my own album there, two given by James to friends in Bradford, one--as we
more recently found out--given by James to Mrs. Marlow. That one--the
Mrs. Marlow one--we believed to be--this--this!"

"And isn't it, Mr. Allerdyke?" asked Chettle wonderingly.

Allerdyke laughed--a laugh of relief and satisfaction.

"Less than an hour ago," he replied, "in fact, just before you came in,
Mrs. Marlow showed me the photo which James gave her--showed it to me,
out below there in the hall. No mistaking it! And so--when you came, I
was racking my brains to rags trying to settle what this
photo--this!--was. And now I know what it is--and damn me if I know
whether the discovery makes things plainer or more mixed up! But--I know
what this is, anyway."

"And--what is it, sir?" asked Chettle eagerly, eyeing the photo as if it
were some fearful living curiosity. "What, Mr. Allerdyke?"

"Why, it's a photograph of my photograph!" almost shouted Allerdyke, with
a thump of his big hand on the table. "That's the truth. This has been
reproduced from mine, d'ye see? Look here--happen you don't know much
about photography, but you'll follow me--I always use a certain sort of
printing-out paper; I've stuck to one particular sort for years--all the
photos in that album are done on that particular sort. The four prints I
made of James's last photo were done on that paper. Now then--this photo,
this print that you found in Lydenberg's watch, is not done on that
paper--it's a totally different paper. Therefore--this is a reproduction!
It is not my original print at all--it's been copied from it. See?"

Chettle, who had followed all this with concentrated attention, nodded
his head several times.

"Clever--clever--clever!" he said with undisguised admiration. "Clever,
indeed! That's a smart bit of work, sir. I see--I understand! Bless my
soul! And what do you gather from that, Mr. Allerdyke?"

"This!" answered Allerdyke. "Just now, Mrs. Marlow said to me, speaking
of her photo--the fourth print, you know--'I misplaced it some time
ago,' she said, 'and couldn't lay hands on it, but I came across it
accidentally this morning.' Now then, Chettle, here's the thing--somebody
took that fourth print from Mrs. Marlow, reproduced it--and that--that
print which you found in Lydenberg's watch is the reproduction!"

"So that," began Chettle suggestively, "so that--"

"So that the thing now is to find who it is that made the reproduction,"
said Allerdyke. "When we've found him--or her--I reckon we shall have
found the man who's at the heart of all this. Leave that to me! Keep this
a dead secret until I tell you to speak--we shall have to tell all this,
and a bonny sight more, to your bosses at headquarters--off you go to
Hull, and do what you have to do, and I'll get on with my work here. I
said I didn't know whether this discovery makes things thicker or
clearer, but, by George, it's a step forward anyway!"

Chettle put the reproduction back into the case of the watch and bestowed
it safely in his pocket.

"One step forward's a good deal in a case like this, Mr. Allerdyke," he
said. "What are you going to do about the next step, now?"

"Try to find out who made that reproduction," replied Allerdyke bluntly.
"No easy job, either! The ground's continually shifting and changing