Mr Ingram, Chief Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department, was sitting in his office at Scotland Yard one chill afternoon, when a respected visitor, Mr Gilead Balm, sent in his name with a request for an immediate interview on a matter of urgency. The gentleman was at once shown in. Gilead, courteous and quiet as ever, failed nevertheless to conceal from the astute officer some evidences of suppressed excitement in his demeanour. There was a suggestion in his face of a subdued self-satisfaction, of a conscious victoriousness, as it were, which both impressed and tickled the Superintendent. “Well, Mr Balm,” he said, “you’ve pulled it off single-handed this time, and no mistake.” Gilead, taking the chair offered him, with an expression in which astonishment and a certain twinkling sobriety fought for mastery, asked “Pulled what off?” “I haven’t a notion,” said the Superintendent. Gilead stared a moment and then laughed. “What! Is my manner such an index?” he said. “Well, I confess I am just a little elated--or conceited. Please to read that, Ingram.” The Superintendent accepted and examined the page of the _Daily Post_ offered him. “The marked ‘ad’?” he asked. “Yes.” “Well, I’ve read it, sir.” “What do you make of it?” “Make?” The Superintendent, quite at a loss, shook his head in a guarded way. “Anything suspicious?” demanded the client. “Not that I can see.” “Ah!” Gilead mutely requested the return of the paper, folded, and restored it to his pocket. “Now, I’ll tell you, Ingram,” he said quietly. “That advertisement represents a quite transcendent piece of fraud and trickery, and, with no more to go upon than you see, I’ve traced it, as I believe, to its source. Could any one of your men have done better, do you think? But I wont believe he could, and I’m just as proud as Punch of my success. If I’m wrong, I will cry off all detective work for the future. But I may be right, and yet miss my quarry through circumstance or misjudgment. I want you to lend me a plain-clothes officer, a strong, skilful, and trustworthy man.” “Certainly, Mr Balm. Will you tell me--” “I’ll tell you nothing, Ingram. I’m going to claim to myself all the honour and glory of this business. I’ll tell you nothing; but--yes, I’ll ask you a question. Do you know George Lightfoot by name?” “Wait--wait--George Lightfoot? Yes, sir, I remember the man.” “And the crime for which he was sentenced?” “Yes, to be sure.” “Would it be legal to arrest him on a charge of larceny arising out of that crime, but subsequent to it?” “Better take out a warrant.” “Very well, procure me a warrant for the arrest of George Lightfoot, and send it on with the officer to the Agency.” “You won’t tell me the charge?” “No.” “Well, sir, we must stretch a point for you. What time do you want them?”