Towards the middle of the morning I was sitting in my office, awaiting the coming of a prominent New York detective, with whom I had an appointment, when my clerk entered to inform me that a lady was in the outer office, and desired to see me if I could spare her a few minutes.

“Who is she?” I inquired. “Find out that, and also her business.”

“Her name is Kitwater,” the man replied, when he returned after a moment’s absence, “but she declines to state her business to any one but yourself, sir.”

“Kitwater?” I said. “Then she is a relation, I suppose, of the blind man who was here yesterday. What on earth can she have to say to me? Well, Lawson won’t be here for another ten minutes, so you may as well show her in.” Then to myself I added —“This is a development of the case which I did not expect. I wonder who she is — wife, sister, daughter, or what, of the blind man?”

I was not to be left long in doubt, for presently the door opened and the young lady herself entered the room. I say ’young lady,’ because her age could not at most have been more than one-or two-and-twenty. She was tall and the possessor of a graceful figure, while one glance was sufficient to show me that her face was an exceedingly pretty one. (Afterwards I discovered that her eyes were dark brown.) I rose and offered her a chair.

“Good morning, Miss Kitwater,” I said. “This is an unexpected visit. Won’t you sit down?”

When she had done so I resumed my seat at the table.

“Mr. Fairfax,” she began, “you are the great detective, I believe?”

I admitted the soft impeachment with as much modesty as I could assume at so short a notice. She certainly was a very pretty girl.

“I have come to talk to you about my uncle.”

She stopped as if she did not quite know how to proceed.

“Then the gentleman who called upon me yesterday, and who has the misfortune to be blind, is your uncle?” I said.

“Yes! He was my father’s younger and only brother,” she answered. “I have often heard my father speak of him, but I had never seen him myself until he arrived in England, a month ago with his companion, Mr. Codd. Mr. Fairfax, they have suffered terribly. I have never heard anything so awful as their experiences.”

“I can quite believe that,” I answered. “Your uncle told me something of their great trouble yesterday. It seems wonderful to me that they should have survived to tell the tale.”

“Then he must have told you of Hayle, their supposed friend” (she spoke with superb scorn), “the man who betrayed them and robbed them of what was given them?”

“It was for that purpose that they called upon me,” I answered. “They were anxious that I should undertake the search for this man.”

She rested her clasped hands upon the table and looked pleadingly at me.

“And will you do so?”

“I am considering the matter,” I said, with the first feeling of reluctance I had experienced in the case. “I have promised to give them my decision this afternoon.”

“So they informed me, and that is why I am here,” she replied. “Oh, Mr. Fairfax, you don’t know how I pity them! Surely if they could find this man his heart would be touched, and he would refund them a portion, at least, of what he took from them, and what is legally theirs.”

“I am afraid it is very doubtful whether he will,” I said, “even in the event of his being found. Gentlemen of his description are not conspicuous for their pity, nor, as a rule, will they disgorge unless considerable pressure of an unpleasant description is brought to bear upon them.”

“Then that pressure must be brought to bear,” she said, “and if I may say so, you are the only one who can do it. That is why I have called upon you this morning. I have come to plead with you, to implore you, if necessary, to take the matter up. I am not very rich, but I would willingly give all I have in the world to help them.”

“In that case you are one niece in a thousand, Miss Kitwater,” I said, with a smile. “Your uncle is indeed fortunate in having such a champion.”

She looked at me as if she were not quite certain whether I was joking or not.

“You will do this for them?”

What was I to say? What could I say? I had well nigh decided to have nothing to do with the matter, yet here I was, beginning to think it was hard upon me to have to disappoint her. My profession is not one calculated to render a man’s heart over tender, but I must confess that in this case I was by no means as adamant as was usual with me. As I have said, she was an unusually pretty girl, and had she not been kind enough to express her belief in my powers! After all, detectives, like other people, are only human.

“Your uncle and his companion have promised to call upon me this afternoon,” I said, “and when they do so, I think I may promise you that I will endeavour to come to some arrangement with them.”

“I thank you,” she said; “for I think that means that you will try to help them. If you do, I feel confident that you will succeed. I hope you will forgive me for having called upon you as I have done, but, when I saw how disappointed they were after their interview with you yesterday, I made up my mind that I would endeavour to see you and to interest you on their behalf before they came again.”

“You have certainly done so,” I answered, as she rose to go. “If I take the case up, and believe me I am not at all sure that I shall not do so, they will owe it to your intercession.”

“Oh, no, I did not mean that exactly,” she replied, blushing prettily. “I should like to feel that you did it for the reason that you believe in the justice of their cause, not merely because I tried to persuade you into it. That would not be fair, either to them or to you.”

“Would it not be possible for it to be on account of both reasons?” I asked. “Let us hope so. And now good-morning, Miss Kitwater. I trust your uncle will have good news for you when you see him again this afternoon.”

“I hope so too,” she answered, and then with a renewal of her thanks and a little bow she left the office.

I closed the door and went back to my seat, almost wondering at my own behaviour. Here was I, a hard-headed man of the world, being drawn into an extraordinary piece of business, which I had most certainly decided to have nothing to do with, simply because a pretty girl had smiled upon me, and had asked me to do it. For I don’t mind confessing that I had made up my mind to help Kitwater and Codd in their search for the villain Hayle. The Trust Company would have to look elsewhere for assistance. And yet, as I had the best of reasons for knowing, that piece of business was likely to prove twice as remunerative as this search for the traitorous friend. Happily, however money is not everything in this world.

During the remainder of the day I found myself looking forward with a feeling that was almost akin to eagerness, to the interview I was to have with Kitwater and Codd that afternoon. If the two gentlemen had faults, unpunctuality was certainly not one of them, for the clock upon the mantelpiece had scarcely finished striking the hour of four, when I heard footsteps in the office outside, and next moment they were shown into my own sanctum. Codd came first, leading his friend by the hand, and as he did so he eyed me with a look of intense anxiety upon his face. Kitwater, on the other hand, was dignified, and as impressive as ever. If he were nervous, he certainly concealed it very well.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fairfax,” he said, as Codd led him to a seat. “According to the arrangement we came to yesterday afternoon, we have come here to learn your decision which you promised to give us at four o’clock to-day. I trust you have good news for us.”

“That depends upon how you take it,” I answered. “I have made up my mind to help you on certain conditions.”

“And those conditions?”

“Are that you pay my expenses and the sum of five hundred pounds, to which another five hundred is to be added if I am successful in helping you to recover the treasure of which you told me yesterday. Is that a fair offer?”

“An exceedingly fair one,” Kitwater replied, while little Codd nodded his head energetically to show that he appreciated it. “We had expected that you would charge more. Of course you understand that it may involve a chase round half the world before you can find him? He’s as slippery as an eel, and, if he once gets to know that we are after him, he’ll double and twist like a hare.”

“He’ll not be the first man I have had to deal with who possessed these characteristics,” I answered. “And I have generally succeeded in running them to earth at the end.”

“Let’s hope for all our sakes that you will be as successful in this case,” he said. “And now, if I may ask the question, when will you be ready to begin your search? We shall both feel happier when we know that you are on his track.”

“I am ready as soon as you like,” I rejoined. “Indeed, the sooner the better for all parties concerned. Nothing is to be gained by delay, and if, as you say, the man has now been in England two months, he may soon be thinking of getting out of it again, if he has not done so already. But before I embark on anything, you must answer me some questions.”

“A hundred, if you like,” he returned. “You have only to ask them and I will do my best to answer.”

“In the first place, I must have a description of this Mr. Gideon Hayle. What is he like?”

“Tall, thin, with brown hair, and a short, close-cropped beard; he carries himself erect, and looks about thirty-eight.”

“You don’t happen to have a photograph of him in your possession, I suppose?”

“No,” replied Kitwater, shaking his head. “Gideon Hayle is not the sort of man to allow himself to be photographed, and what’s more you must remember that when we reached Nampoung, the station on the frontier of Burmah, we had scarcely a rag upon our backs. Any goods and chattels we might once have possessed were in the hands of the Chinese. They had robbed us of everything, except what that arch thief, Hayle, had already stolen from us.”

As he said this, another look such as I had seen on the occasion of his previous visit spread over his face.

“The robber, the thief,” he hissed, almost trembling in his sudden excess of rage; “when I get hold of him he shall rue his treachery to the day of his death. Upwards of a quarter of a million of money he stole from us, and where is it now? Where is my sight, and where is Coddy’s power of speech? All gone, and he is free. ‘Vengeance is Mine,’ saith the Lord, but I want to repay it myself. I want to----”

Here he leant across the table and turned his sightless eyes upon me.

“This is certainly a curious sort of missionary,” I said to myself as I watched him, “He may be smitten on one cheek, but I scarcely fancy he would be content to turn the other to the striker.”

At this moment Coddy leant forward in his chair, and placed his hand upon his friend’s arm. The effect was magical. His fit of impotent rage died down as suddenly as it had sprung up, and immediately he became again the quiet, suave, smoothspoken individual who had first entered my office.

“I must beg your pardon, Mr. Fairfax,” he said, in a totally different voice to that in which he had just spoken. “When I remember how we have been wronged I am apt to forget myself. I trust you will forgive me?”

“I will do so willingly,” I answered. “You have certainly won the right to be excused if you entertain a feeling of resentment for the man who has treated you so shamefully. And now to resume our conversation?”

“What were you about to say?”

“I was about to ask you the number and description of the stones of which he robbed you. You told me they numbered ninety-three in all, if I remember aright. Can you tell me how many there were of each?”

“Forty-eight rubies and forty-five sapphires,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation. “The rubies were uncut and of various sizes, ranging perhaps from ten to eighty carats. They were true rubies, not spinels, remember that. The sapphires ran from fifteen carats to sixty, and there was not a flaw amongst them.”

“Has Hayle any knowledge of the value of precious stones?”

“There’s not a keener judge in the East. He would be a cunning man who would succeed in taking him in about the value of anything from a moonstone to a ruby.”

“In that case he would, in all probability, know where to place them to the best advantage?”

“You may be sure that was his intention in coming to England. But we have tried Hatton Garden and can hear nothing of him there.”

“He may have disposed of some of them on the continent,” I said. “However, we will soon clear that point up. The size of the larger stones is so unusual that they would be certain to attract attention. And now one other question. Are you aware whether he has any friends or relatives in England?”

“So far as we know he has not a single relative in the world,” Kitwater replied. “Have you ever heard of one, Coddy?”

The little man shook his head, and then, taking the other’s hand, tapped upon it with his fingers in the manner I have already described.

“He says Hayle had a sister once, of whom he was very fond.” The tapping upon the hand continued, and once more Kitwater translated, “She was a cripple, and lived in a small house off the Brompton Road. She died while Hayle was in North Borneo; is not that so, little man?”

Codd nodded his head to show that Kitwater had interpreted him correctly. I then made some inquiries as to the missing man’s habits. So far the description I had had of him was commonplace in the extreme.

“Do you know whether he shipped on board the Jemadar for England under his own name, or under an assumed one?”

“He booked his passage as George Bertram,” Kitwater replied. “We know that is so, for we made inquiries at Rangoon.”

I next noted the name and address of the vessel’s owner, and resolved to pay him a visit next morning. It would be hard if I could not learn from him something concerning Mr. Hayle, and where he had gone on landing.

“I think those are all the questions I want to ask you at present,” I said, closing my note-book. “It would be as well perhaps for you to furnish me with your address, in order that I may communicate with you, should it be necessary.”

“At present,” said Kitwater, “we are staying with my niece at the village of Bishopstowe in Surrey. My late brother was vicar of the parish for many years, and he left his daughter a small property in the neighbourhood. They tell me it is a pretty place, but, as you are aware, I unfortunately cannot see it, and my friend Codd here cannot talk to me about it?”

He heaved a heavy sigh and then rose to depart.

“I must again express my gratitude to you, Mr. Fairfax,” he said, “for having consented to take up the case. I feel certain you will ultimately be successful. I will leave you to imagine with what anxiety we shall await any news you may have to give us.”

“I will communicate with you as soon as I have anything to report,” I answered. “You may rely upon my doing my best to serve you. By the way, are you aware that your niece called upon me this morning?”

He gave a start of surprise.

“No, I certainly did not know it,” he replied. “She said nothing to us of such an intention. I know that she is heart and soul with us in our desire to find Hayle. But since you have seen her you probably know that?”

“I think I do,” I returned, for some reason almost abruptly.

“She is a good girl,” said Kitwater, and then took from his pocket an envelope which he handed to me.

“By the way I brought this with me,” he said, “in the hope that we should be able to induce you to accede to our wishes. Inside you will find a hundred-pound note, which should be sufficient to cover any preliminary expenses. If you need more, perhaps you will be kind enough to communicate with me at once, and it shall be sent you. A receipt can be forwarded to me at your leisure.”

I thanked him and placed the envelope upon the table. In my own mind I felt that it would be an easy matter to guess whence the sum had come, and for a reason that I could not then analyze, and therefore am unable to describe, the thought irritated me.

Having assured them that the amount would be quiet sufficient, in the event of nothing unforeseen happening, to last for some considerable time to come, I conducted them to the door, again repeating the promise that I would communicate with them so soon as I had anything to report. If I had only known then, that, at the very moment when they stepped in to the street, the man they wanted me to find for them, and whom they hated so desperately, was standing in a shop on the other side of the road, keeping an eye on my door, and evidently watching for their departure, how much trouble and vexation of spirit we should all have been saved. But I did not know this until long afterwards, and then of course the information came too late to be of any service to us.

Next morning I was early at the office, being desirous of winding up another little matter before I turned my attention to the new affair. One of my subordinates had just returned from the Continent whither I had sent him to keep an eye on a certain pseudo-French Marquis with whom I expected to have dealings at no distant date. He reported that the gentleman in question had broken the bank at Monte Carlo, had staked and lost all his winnings next day, and had shot himself on the promenade on the evening following. With his death the affair, on which I had confidently expected to be employed, came to an end, I could not say that I was altogether sorry.

“I shall want you to leave on Friday, Turner, for St. Petersburg,” I said, when he had finished his report and I had commented upon it. “Do you remember Paulus Scevanovitch, who was concerned in that attempt to defraud the Parisian jewellers, Maurel and Company, two years ago?”

“Yes, sir, I remember him perfectly,” Turner replied. “A tall, burly man, with a bushy beard, the top of his little finger on the left hand missing, and a long white scar over his right eyebrow.”

“The same,” I answered. “I see you have not forgotten him. Well, I want you to find him out, and let me have an exact account of his movements during the next three weeks. The office will arrange your expenses in the usual way, and you had better leave by the mail-train. In all probability I shall see you off.”

“Very good, sir,” the man responded, and withdrew.

He had scarcely gone before one of my clerks entered the room and handed me a card. On it was printed the name of Mr. Edward Bayley, and in the left-hand bottom corner was the announcement that he was the Managing Director of the Santa Cruz Mining Company of Forzoda, in the Argentine Republic.

“Show the gentleman in, Walters,” I said.

In a few minutes a tall, handsome man, irreproachably turned out, entered the office. He seated himself in a chair the clerk placed for him, put his hat and umbrella on another, and then turned to me.

“My card has made you familiar with my name, Mr. Fairfax,” he began, “and doubtless, if you are at all familiar with mines and mining, you are acquainted with the name of the company I have the honour to represent?”

“I am very much afraid the Mining Market does not possess very much interest for me,” I replied. “I have to work so hard for my money, that when I have got it I prefer to invest it in something a little more reliable. May I inquire the nature of your business with me?”

“I have come to see you, Mr. Fairfax,” he said, speaking very impressively, and regarding me deliberately as he did so, “on rather a delicate subject. Before I explain what it is, may I ask that you will treat what I am about to tell you as purely confidential?”

“My business is invariably a confidential one,” I answered for the second time in two days. “I venture to think that this room has heard more secrets than almost any other in England. But though they say walls have ears, I have never heard it said that they have tongues.”

“It is sometimes a good thing that they have not,” he replied. “And now let me tell you what business has brought me here. In the first place, if you do not already know it, I may say that the Company I represent is an exceedingly wealthy one, and, as our business lies a long way from Threadneedle Street, if I may so put it, it is necessary for us to trust very largely to the honesty of our employés on the other side of the world. Of course we make all sorts of inquiries about them prior to engaging their services, and it is also needless to say that we keep a sharp eye on them when they have entered our employ. Nevertheless, it is quite possible, all precautions notwithstanding, for an unscrupulous man to take advantage of us. As a matter of fact, that is what has happened, and what has also brought me to you. For some considerable time past we have had our suspicions that our manager at the mines has been in league with a notorious rascal in New York. In proof of this, I might say that our returns have shown a decided falling off, while our manager has, so we have lately discovered, within the past year become rich enough to purchase property to a considerable extent in the United States. Unfortunately for us, owing to a lack of direct evidence, we are unable to bring his defalcations home to him, though of course we are as certain of our facts as we can well be of anything.”

“I think I understand,” I said. “Your business with me is to endeavour to induce me to go out to the Argentine and make inquiries on your behalf with the idea of bringing this man to book. Is that not so?”

“That is my errand,” he replied gravely. “If you care to undertake the task, we, on our side — and I speak as the mouthpiece of the Company — will be prepared to pay you very high terms for your services; in point of fact, almost what you may ask in reason. The matter, as you may suppose, is a most serious one for us, and every day’s delay is adding to it. May I ask what your terms would be, and when would you be prepared to start?”

“Your offer is a most liberal one,” I said. “Unfortunately, however, I fear there is a considerable difficulty in the way of my accepting it.”

“A difficulty!” he exclaimed, raising his eyebrows as if in astonishment. “But surely that obstacle can be removed. Especially for an offer of such magnitude as we are prepared to make you.”

“Excuse me,” I said, somewhat tartly, “but however great the inducement may be, I never break faith with my clients. The fact of the matter is, only yesterday I promised to undertake another piece of business which, while not being so remunerative, perhaps, as that you are now putting before me, means a very great deal to those who are, for the time being, my employers.”

“Would it be impertinent on my part to ask at what time yesterday afternoon you arrived at this momentous decision?”

“Shortly after four o’clock,” I answered, but not without a little wonderment as to his reason for putting the question. For my own part I did not see what it had to do with the matter in hand.

“Dear me, how very vexing, to be sure!” he observed. “This is certainly another instance of the contrariness of Fate.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Because it was my intention to have called upon you shortly after lunch yesterday on this matter,” he answered. “Unfortunately I was prevented at the last moment. Had I been able to get here, I might have forestalled your more successful client. Are you quite sure, Mr. Fairfax, that it is out of the question for you to undertake what we want?”

“If it is necessary for me to go at once, I fear it is,” I answered. “But if it would be of any use to you, I could send you a trustworthy subordinate; one who would be quite capable of undertaking the work, and who would give you every satisfaction.”

“I fear that would not be the same thing,” he said. “My firm have such implicit faith in you that they would not entertain the idea of any one else going. Now think, Mr. Fairfax, for a moment. If you are prepared to go, I, in my turn, on behalf of my Company, am prepared to offer you your expenses and a sum of five thousand pounds. You need not be away more than three months at longest, so that you see our offer is at the rate of twenty thousand pounds a year. It is princely remuneration.”

I looked at him closely. It was plain that he was in earnest — in deadly earnest, so it seemed. Even a defaulting manager would scarcely seem to warrant so much zeal.

“I am very much flattered by your offer,” I said; “and believe me, I most truly appreciate the generosity of your Company; but, as I said before, if it is necessary for me to go at once, that is to say, before I have completed my present case, then I have no option but to most reluctantly decline.”

“Perhaps you will think it over,” he continued, “and let me know, say to-morrow?”

“No amount of thinking it over will induce me to alter my decision,” I replied. “You must see for yourself that I have no right to accept a retainer from one party and then throw them over in order to favour another. That would not only be a dishonourable action on my part, but would be bad from a business point of view. No, Mr. Bayley, I am exceedingly sorry, but I have no option but to act as I am doing.”

“In that case I must wish you a very good-morning,” he remarked, and took up his hat and umbrella. I could see, however, that he was still reluctant to go.

“Good-morning,” I answered. “I hope your affairs in the Argentine may brighten before very long.”

He shook his head gloomily, and then left the office without another word.

When he had gone I answered some letters, gave some instructions to my managing clerk, and then donned my hat and set off for the office of the Shipping Company that had brought Gideon Hayle to England.

Unfortunately it transpired that they were not in a position to do very much in the way of helping me. Mr. Bertram had certainly travelled home in one of their steamers, so the manager informed me, a boat that as a rule did not carry passengers. He had landed at the docks, and from that moment they had neither seen nor heard anything of him. I inquired for the steamer, only to learn that she was now somewhere on her way between Singapore and Hong Kong. This was decidedly disappointing, but as most of the cases in which I have been ultimately successful have had unpromising beginnings, I did not take it too seriously to heart. Leaving the Shipping Office, I next turned my attention to Hatton Garden, where I called upon Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall, one of the largest firms in the gem trade. We had had many dealings together in the past, and as I had had the good fortune on one occasion to do them a signal service, I knew that they would now do all that they could for me in return.

“Good-day, Mr. Fairfax,” said the chief partner, as I entered his snug little sanctum, which leads out of the main office. “What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?”

“I am in search of some information,” I replied, “and I think you may be able to help me.”

“I will do all that is in my power to render you assistance,” he returned, as he wiped his glasses and placed them on his somewhat fleshy nose. “What is the information you require? Has there been another big robbery of stones, and you think it possible that some of them may have come into our hands?”

“There certainly has been a robbery,” I replied, “and the stones may have been offered to you, but not in the way you mean. The fact of the matter is, I want to discover whether or not a large consignment of uncut rubies and sapphires of great value have been placed upon the market within the last two months.”

“Uncut rubies and sapphires are being continually placed upon the market,” he observed, leaning back in his chair and rattling his keys.

“But not such stones as those I am looking for,” I said, and furnished him with the rough weights that had been supplied to me.

“This is interesting — decidedly interesting,” he remarked. “Especially since it serves to offer an explanation on a certain matter in which we have been interested for some little time past. On the sixteenth of last month, a gentleman called upon us here, who stated that he had lately returned from the Far East. He had had, so he declared, the good fortune to discover a valuable mine, the locality of which he was most careful not to disclose. He thereupon showed my partner and myself ten stones, consisting of five rubies and five sapphires, each of which weighed between fifty-five and sixty carats.”

“And you purchased them?”

“We did, and for a very heavy sum. I can assure you the vendor was very well aware of their value, as we soon discovered, and he was also a good hand at a bargain. Would you care to see the stones? I shall be pleased to show them to you if you would.”

“I should like to see them immensely.” I replied.

Thereupon he crossed the room to a safe in the corner, and, when he had unlocked it, took from it a wash-leather bag. Presently ten superb gems were lying before me on the table.

“There they are,” he said, waving his hands towards them, “and as you can see for yourself, they are worthy of being set in the crown of an emperor. It is not often that we are enthusiastic in such matters, but in this case we have very good reason to be. When they are properly cut, they will be well nigh priceless.”

“Do you happen to know whether he sold any more of a similar kind in London?” I asked, as he returned them to their place in the safe.

“I know that he sold fifteen smaller ones to Henderson and Soil, and three almost as large as those I have just shown you to a firm in Amsterdam.”

“If he is the man I want to get hold of, that accounts for twenty-eight,” I said, making a note of the fact as I spoke. “Originally he had ninety-three in his possession.”

“Ninety-three?” the merchant replied, as if he could scarcely believe his ears. “Why, his mine must be a source of unlimited wealth. I wish I had known this before.”

“So do I,” I said. “And now perhaps you can go further and furnish me with a description of the man himself. I shall then be able to tell you whether my gentleman and your customer are one and the same person.”

“I can describe him to you perfectly well. He was tall, but somewhat sparely built, very sunburnt — which would be accounted for by his long residence in the East — his hair was streaked with grey, he had dark eyes, and a singularly sharp nose.”

“Did he wear a beard?”

“No, only a moustache. The latter was carefully trimmed, and, I think, waxed. Of this, however, I am not quite certain.”

“And his name?”

“He would not tell us that. We pressed him to disclose it, but he obstinately refused to do so. He said that if his name became known it might lead to the discovery of his mine, and that he was naturally anxious that such an event should not occur.”

“But what guarantee had you that the stones were not stolen?”

“None whatever — but it is most unlikely. In the first place, they are uncut; in the second, we have had them in our possession for some time, and you may be sure have made the closest inquiries. Besides, there are few such stones in Europe, and what there are, are safely in the possession of their owners. Surely you are not going to tell me that they were stolen?”

In the man’s voice there was a perceptible note of alarm.

“I don’t think you need be afraid,” I said. “They were stolen by the man from his two partners, and all they want is to get hold of him in order to make him disgorge their share of what he got for them.”

“I am glad indeed to hear that,” was the reply. “I was beginning to grow uneasy. And now is there any other way in which I can serve you? If so, I shall be only too pleased to do it.”

I informed him that, if I had anything else to ask him I would call upon him again, and then took my departure. While I was in a great measure satisfied with the information I had gained, I was not altogether easy in my mind. The question to be answered was, was the man I was after the same individual who had sold Jacob and Bulenthall the stones? The description given me varied in several particulars to that furnished me by Kitwater. My client declared him to possess black hair; the merchant had said grey; the one had declared that Hayle possessed a beard, the other that he had only a waxed moustache. The figure, however, was in both cases identically the same.

Having satisfied myself that he had no more to tell me, I thanked him for his courtesy and left the office. A fresh idea had occurred to me which I thought might lead to something, and I resolved to put it into practice without any further waste of time.