Quarles nodded and changed the conversation; he had done with the affair until to-morrow. When I met him next morning, wrapped in a heavy cloak, for it was cold, I could not help thinking that he looked the very last man in the world to solve an intricate mystery. He was the kind of old gentleman who would annoy everybody by asking foolish questions and telling stories which had grown hoary with age. "I'm a simple old fool, Wigan, that's my character," he said, guessing my thoughts; "and, if you can look annoyed with me and show irritability, so much the better. Where does Isaacson live? I should like to see him first." I found it quite easy to be irritable. When we called on Isaacson, Quarles asked him the most ridiculous questions which certainly had nothing whatever to do with Portman, but in a vague way concerned the theory and honesty of money-lending. "Was Mr. Portman a Jew?" he asked suddenly. "Yes." "I seem to remember seeing him without glasses," said Quarles. "I thought Jews always wore glasses." "We are usually short-sighted," said Isaacson, touching his spectacles, "I am myself. Mr. Portman worked in glasses always, but if you met him in the street you would probably see him without them." "Ah, you are remembering that he did not wear them the night you met him in Finsbury Pavement," said Quarles, "that is probably why he did not see you." "He happened to be wearing them that night," Isaacson returned. "I believe he did see me, but was in too much of a hurry to stop." "Rude, very rude," remarked Quarles. "Small men have to put up with many things from big ones," said Isaacson humbly. The professor treated him to a short dissertation on the equality of man, and then we left. "Honest, I think, so far as he goes," said Quarles, "but he is desperately afraid of being drawn too deeply into this affair. He couldn't afford to be questioned too closely about his business, Wigan." It had been thought advisable to keep the clerk at his post for the present, and he was quite ignorant of the fact that he was watched both during his business and leisure hours. His own importance rather impressed him at this time, and Quarles soon succeeded in making him talkative, but, as far as I could see, very little of what he said was worth particular note. "I think Mr. Portman would have been wise if he had confided more in you," said Quarles, after talking to him for some time. "I think so, too," the youth answered. "He never did, I suppose?" "No--no, I cannot say he ever did." "When he came in that afternoon he stood in the doorway there and talked to you?" "He was telling me about some papers he would want in the morning. Very snappy he was, I can tell you." "The weather, possibly. It was foggy and unpleasant." "He was usually unpleasant, no matter what the weather was. He paid me fairly well, or I shouldn't have stayed with him as I have done."