The late afternoon edition of the evening papers were just out when Hetherwick and Matherfield reached Victoria. Matherfield snatched one up; a moment later he thrust it before Hetherwick, pointing to some big black capitals.  
"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!"
 
Hetherwick looked, and gasped his astonishment at what he read.
 
MURDER OF ROBERT HANNAFORD.
FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS REWARD.
 
Hetherwick turned on his companion with a look that was both questioning and surprised.
 
"This is probably—no, certainly!—what Penteney referred to when he told Baseverie to look in the newspapers!" he said. "That was yesterday; it must have been in last night's papers, and this morning's. I saw neither."
 
"Wait!" said Matherfield. He hurried back to the bookstall and returned with an armful of papers, turning the topmost over as he came. "It's here—and here!" he continued. "Let's get a quiet corner somewhere and look this thing carefully over!"
 
"Come into a waiting-room, then," said Hetherwick. "Odd!" he muttered, as they turned away. "Who should offer a reward—like that, too!—who isn't concerned in the case?"
 
"How do we know who isn't concerned in the case?" exclaimed Matherfield. "Somebody evidently is!—somebody who can not only afford to offer five thousand pounds, but isn't afraid to spend no end in advertising. Look at that—and that—and that," he went on, turning over his purchases rapidly. "It's in every paper in London!"
 
"Let's read it carefully," said Hetherwick. He spread out one of the newspapers on the waiting-room table and muttered the wording of the advertisement while Matherfield looked over his shoulder. "Mysterious, very!" he concluded. "What's it mean?"
 
But Matherfield was re-reading the advertisement.
 
 
Whereas Robert Hannaford, formerly Superintendent of Police at Sellithwaite, Yorkshire, died suddenly in an Underground Railway train, near Charing Cross (Embankment) Station about 1.15 a.m. on March 19th last, and expert medical investigation has proved that he was poisoned, and there is evidence to warrant the belief that the poison was administered by some person or persons with intent to cause his death, this is to give notice that the above-mentioned sum of Five Thousand Pounds will be paid to anyone first giving information which will lead to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons concerned in administering the said poison and that such information should be given to the undersigned, who will pay the said reward in accordance with the above-stated conditions.
 
PENTENEY, BLENKINSOP & PENTENEY,
Solicitors.
April 22nd, 1920.
853, Lincoln's Inn Fields,
London, W.C.
 
Matherfield pointed to the names of the signatories.
 
"Penteney," he remarked. "That's the name of the man Miss Hannaford mentioned as having given Baseverie his dismissal."
 
"Of course—Major Penteney," said Hetherwick. "Probably a junior partner in the firm. I know their names, but not much about them."
 
"I thought he was a soldier," said Matherfield. "Major, she called him."
 
"Very likely a Territorial officer," replied Hetherwick. "Anyway, it's very plain what this is, Matherfield, considering all we know. This advertisement has been issued on behalf of Lady Riversreade. Penteney, Blenkinsop & Penteney are no doubt her solicitors. But—why?"
 
"Aye, why?" exclaimed Matherfield. "That's just what beats me! What interest has she in Hannaford's murder? Why should she want to bring his murderer to justice? If his granddaughter had offered, say, a hundred pounds for information, I could understand it—she's his flesh and blood. But Lady Riversreade! Why, if she's really the woman who was once Mrs. Whittingham, you'd have thought she'd have been rather glad that Hannaford was out of the way! And, after all, this mayn't come from her."
 
"I'm absolutely certain it does," asserted Hetherwick. "Putting everything together, what other conclusion can we come to? It comes from Lady Riversreade—and her adviser—Major Penteney, and it's something to do with that man Baseverie. But—what?"
 
"It ought to be looked into," muttered Matherfield. "They've never approached us on the matter. It's a purely voluntary offer on their part. They've left the police clean out."
 
"Well, I make a suggestion," said Hetherwick. "I think you and I had better call at Penteney's to-morrow morning. We can tell them something—perhaps they'll tell us something. Anyway, it's a foolish thing to divide forces; we'd far better unite in a common effort."
 
"Um!" replied Matherfield doubtfully. "But these lawyer chaps—they've generally got something up their sleeves—some card that they want to play at their own moment. However, we can try 'em."
 
"Meet me at the south-east corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields at half-past ten to-morrow morning," said Hetherwick. "Penteney's offices are close by. We'll go together—and ask them straight out what this advertisement means."
 
"All right—but if they won't tell?" suggested Matherfield.
 
"Then, in that case, we'll introduce Lady Riversreade's name, and ask them if Lady Riversreade of Riversreade Court and Mrs. Whittingham, formerly of Sellithwaite, are one and the same person," replied Hetherwick. "Come! I think we can show them that we already know a good deal."
 
"We have certainly a card or two to play," admitted Matherfield. "All right, Mr. Hetherwick! To-morrow morning, then, as you suggest."
 
He was waiting at the appointed place when Hetherwick hurried up next morning. Hetherwick immediately turned him down the lower side of the Fields.
 
"I've found out something about these people we're going to see," he said. "My clerk, Mapperley, told me a bit; he's a sort of walking encyclop?dia, Old, highly respectable firm this. Penteney, senior, is retired; the firm is now really Blenkinsop & Penteney, junior. And Penteney, junior, is the Major Penteney who takes such an interest in Lady Riversreade's Home—and in Lady Riversreade. As I suggested last night, he was a Territorial officer—so now he's back at his own job. Now then, Matherfield, let's arrange our plan of campaign. You, of course, have your official credentials—I'm a deeply interested person, the man who chanced to witness Hannaford's death. I think you'd better be spokesman."
 
"Well, you'll come in when wanted?" suggested Matherfield. "You're better used to lawyers than I am, being one yourself."
 
"I fear my acquaintance with solicitors is, so far, extremely limited, Matherfield," replied Hetherwick with a laugh. "I have seen a brief!—but only occasionally. However, here we are at 853, and a solid and sombre old house it is."
 
The two callers had to wait for some time before any apparent notice was taken of their cards by the persons to whom they had been sent in. Matherfield was beginning to chafe when, at last, an elderly clerk conducted them up to an inner room wherein one cold-eyed, immobile-faced man sat at a desk, while another,, scarcely less stern in appearance, in whom Hetherwick immediately recognised the Major Penteney pointed out by Rhona, stood, hands in pockets, on the hearthrug. Each stared silently at the two callers; the man at the desk pointed to chairs on either side of his fortress. He looked at Matherfield.
 
"Yes?" he asked.
 
"Mr. Blenkinsop, I presume?" began Matherfield, with a polite bow to the desk. "And Mr. Penteney?" with another to the hearthrug.
 
"Just so," agreed Blenkinsop. "Precisely! Yes?"
 
"You have my card, gentlemen, and so you know who I am," continued Matherfield. "The police——"
 
"A moment," interrupted Blenkinsop. He picked up Hetherwick's card and glanced from it to its presenter. "Mr. Guy Hetherwick," he remarked. "Does Mr. Hetherwick also call on behalf of the police? Because," he added, with a dry smile, "I think I've seen Mr. Hetherwick in wig an............