“Before you see this man, sir,” he said, “there are one or two points I have cleared up for you.”

“Very good of you,” murmured Mallett.

“I have made enquiries from the railway officials,” Frant went on. “I have ascertained that a man answering to the description of James travelled by the Newhaven boat-train on Friday night. He went first-class, and dined on the train. The Pullman attendant remembers him quite clearly, because he gave a lot of trouble and tipped him particularly well. I have put through an enquiry to Paris, but the answer isn’t to hand yet.

“What about the passport officials?” asked Mallett.

“He had a passport, apparently. They have no recollection of him.”

“They wouldn’t. Well, have you been to the bank?”

“Yes. It appears that on Friday morning James called and took away his pass-book and a sealed packet which he had deposited with them. He also drew out all the money to his credit in one pound notes. I have seen the account. He paid in two hundred pounds in notes on the 16th October, the same day he took the house in Daylesford Gardens. The only payment out was the cheque to the house-agents. All they could give me at the bank were his two specimen signatures. Here they are.”

He handed them over to the inspector, and added: “I have got the experts on to them, and they say they are obviously disguised—probably left-handed.”

“You surprise me,” said Mallett gravely. “Is that all?”

“So far as James is concerned—yes. But you ought to know——”

“The Southern Bank doesn’t usually open an account without a reference of some kind,” remarked Mallett.

The sergeant coloured. “The manager didn’t mention anything of the sort to me,” he answered.

“In other words, you forgot to ask him. That’s not good enough, Frant. If you’re going to succeed in this job, you must learn to be thorough. Get back to the bank, and tell the manager to turn up his records. There must be a letter of recommendation or something. What are you waiting for?”

Somewhat crestfallen, the sergeant said: “I thought I ought to mention, sir, a report has just come in that Fanshawe arrived in London from France this morning. He went to his sister’s flat at 2b Daylesford Court Mansions.”

Mallett made no reply for a moment. Then he said reflectively: “Were you at Fanshawe’s trial, by any chance?”

“No—but I heard all about it, of course.”