“Very well, Ingram,” answered Gilead. “But it’s justice I desire, not credit.” “Justice, you may take my word for it, sir, was properly dealt.” “Do you know anything about this Mr Hamlin?” “Nothing to his harm certainly. He’s one of the ‘Garden’ lot, not amongst the swells, but substantial so far as I know. Do you?” “Nothing whatever. And the other--the addressee in the case?” “Valkenburg? He is a Hollander by birth--a bona-fide dealer.” “In diamonds?” “In diamonds.” “And known of course to Mr Hamlin?” “Naturally. The enclosure in question was forwarded by Hamlin to him in the ordinary course of business.” “But why by post? Hatton Garden and the Vauxhall Bridge Road--it was there this Valkenburg lived, wasn’t it?” “Yes, number 41, B.” “Well, they aren’t such leagues apart.” The Superintendent shrugged his shoulders. “It’s quite a common custom of the trade,” he said. “One can conceive a dozen reasons for it in the press of business. Really, Mr Balm, such an act affords no grounds whatever for suspicion.” “Do you know that Valkenburg has shut up his house since the trial and gone away?” “Has he? To South Africa like enough. It’s quite probable.” “And that the girl, his servant, who denied having received the parcel, has gone too?” “To South Africa?” “No. I mean she has left her situation.” “Well, now, he wouldn’t want to leave her shut up in the empty house, would he?” He sniggered, his hairy face creasing all over. “No, Mr Balm,” he said. “I see what you’re driving at; but it won’t wash, sir. There was never a hint of collusion between the two. Of course if he _had_ bolted and taken the girl with him, there might have been some shadow of a reason for suspicion. But I believe, upon my word, sir, that you’re taking away the man’s character. You must remember that if anyone was to profit by such a fraud, it would not be Valkenburg but Hamlin.” Gilead rose. “Well, yes, it would seem so,” he said. “Seem so!” The Chief Superintendent rose too. “I don’t know what’s got into your head about this business, Mr Balm,” he said; “but unless you’ve something up your sleeve--” he paused, in sudden wonder. “Have you?” he asked--“something unguessed at by us here?” “Good morning, Ingram,” said Gilead. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve got a vaccination mark up my sleeve. Don’t say anything about it.” The Superintendent stood some moments frowning after he was left alone. “I wonder if he has,” he mused darkly. “It wouldn’t, in my opinion, be quite playing the game; but, there, angels like him must claim their privileges, I suppose.”