Mallett nodded, mechanically taking a note of the address. Once he had established the general crookedness of the late financier, the details of his devices did not interest him greatly. As to the eventual aim of all his dealings, that became clear enough as the enquiry proceeded. It was simply to divert money through one channel or another from the pockets of the investing public into those of Ballantine, and equally clearly it had been remarkably successful. Then quite suddenly, during the last few days of his life, things had gone against him. He had been unexpectedly attacked by a leading financial newspaper, and the shareholders in his principal concern, with the annual general meeting on the horizon, had lost confidence. The market quotations had fallen catastrophically, and on the very day of his death his enemies were in full cry.

“The game was up, and he knew it,” said Renshaw. “Now if he had committed suicide one could have understood it.”

“He would certainly have saved us a lot of trouble if he had,” remarked Mallett. “Instead of which, he let someone else do the job, and left us with the business of avenging his worthless self. But I don’t think he was the man to take his own life. Why didn’t he run for it, like Aliss and Hartigan?”

“So far as we can make out, that’s just what he did.”

“Yes—as far as Daylesford Gardens.”

“I think he meant to go farther than that,” answered Renshaw.

He went on to explain the result of his researches into Ballantine’s conduct on his last day of business. For some time previously he had been apparently unusually erratic in his behaviour, arriving late and leaving early, but on this day he had been almost continuously in his private room at the office. What he did there could only be surmised from the state of his belongings afterwards, but it seemed clear that he had spent a good deal of time in destroying papers. His private safe was almost empty, and Mallett was disappointed to learn that nothing connecting him with Fanshawe had survived. He had withdrawn from his private banking account the sum standing to his credit, and his passport was missing from the drawer where it was usually kept.

“Altogether,” Renshaw concluded, “it seems pretty clear that he had a longer journey in mind than to Kensington.”

“It also seems pretty clear,” rejoined Mallett, “that he must have had a good deal of money on him when he was killed. How much, do you think?”

Renshaw shook his head.