"You'd like him. He's big, and strong as they're made. He talks like a quick-firing gun, and he's got a nerve that'd make a refrigerator look like a quiet corner in hell. He's one of these cool, casual devils who could get on to a bus politely during the rush hour--and get on first!" "That's off the point," said Blaythwayt, "I know all that. You've told me about him once before. I didn't ask _what_ he is, but _who_ he is." "Christopher Arden," said Mr. Teal. Blaythwayt smiled triumphantly. "That stumped you! I came across it quite by accident, and if you hadn't mentioned the name I shouldn't have done anything about it. I scented a coincidence and I got one. Someone took him out of a workhouse at the age of two, but who put him in?" "I'll buy it," said Teal. "He's got a good bit of money, too, hasn't he? Well, he may have picked up a bit on his travels--according to you, he's tackled a few risky and paying jobs--but you can't go pearling or bootlegging or running revolutions without capital." "I know that one," murmured the somnambulous Teal. "An uncle died and left him ten thousand. The solicitors traced him somehow." "What was the name of the uncle?" "I don't know, and it isn't my business," said Teal bluntly. "If Kennedy says a man's all right, he is all right. What are you getting at, Joe?" "You ought to play about a bit in Somerset House," said Blaythwayt. Mr. Teal blinked. It was the only evidence he gave that he was interested. On his way home to his modest lodging near Victoria he dropped in at the Albany to report his discoveries, such as they were. He found Storm arrayed in a suit of wonderfully jazzed silk pyjamas and a staggering silk dressing-gown, seated in a comfortable armchair in front of the open window, his bare feet propped up on the sill and a slim volume of Kipling on his knees. "What news, Teal?" Mr. Teal pulled up a chair and accepted the proffered cigarette. "Very little," he confessed. "Joe Blaythwayt says he never made an enemy at Harchester--in fact, he was very popular. Harchester's a great Rugger school, and Joe used to be a star three-quarter before he put on weight. Cardan can't remember a thing. Marker's the only man who could remember anything at all, and all he knew was that in March, 1897--he can't swear to the exact date--he got into Parliament at the Clayston bye-election, and got married a week later on the strength of it." "It isn't much to go on," Storm admitted ruefully. "I'll talk to Marker to-morrow. I suppose we can look up who opposed him at Clayston, though I don't suppose there's much in that. Now look here." He reached out for an envelope that lay on the table beside him, and from it he drew a card which he laid in Teal's hand. "That came round from the Yard after dinner. Raegenssen brought it in--got it this afternoon." The card and the sketch were by this time familiar to Mr. Teal. Underneath was the legend, "_April 1st, 1928_."