"That will just suit me nicely," I said. "I can go round to Cockspur Street first and interview the Planet people, then I shall know exactly where I am." Taking his hat from a peg behind the door, Mr. Drayton led the way downstairs. In the small room on the ground floor a large, burly man with a close-cropped moustache and a chin like the toe of a boot was standing with his back to the fireplace. "Morning, Campbell," said Mr. Drayton. "Let me introduce you to Mr. John Dryden, whom you were clever enough to find for me." The Inspector stepped forward. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he observed, extending an enormous hand. "Mr. Dryden has invited us both out to lunch," continued the lawyer. "He wants us to assist him in celebrating his sudden accession to wealth." The Inspector moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Always glad to oblige a friend of yours, Mr. Drayton," he replied affably. "Well, come along then," returned the other, picking up his umbrella from the stand. "I've got to be back by half-past two, and I hate to hurry over a meal when somebody else is paying for it." He turned to me. "The Holborn's the nearest place," he added, "and the head waiter is one of my clients." "Providence is with us," I answered hopefully. We stepped out into the misty drizzle of Bedford Row, and, making our way down a couple of side alleys, emerged into the crowded main thoroughfare almost opposite our destination. A few minutes later we were comfortably seated at a corner table in the big restaurant, while the head waiter--an impressive gentleman with side whiskers--hovered benignly in the foreground. "I have come into a fortune," I explained to him, "and I want a lunch which will be worthy of the occasion." With the air of a man who is fully accustomed to deal with such emergencies he picked up the menu card and began to offer suggestions, commencing with cocktails and oysters, and wandering on in a mellow way through saddle of mutton, roast duckling, and Stilton cheese. I accepted them _en bloc_, and crowned the order by demanding a bottle of his best champagne--a finishing touch which brought a wonderfully human expression into the naturally stern face of the Inspector. "I was doing a better day's work than I bargained for when I ran across this gentleman's track," he announced contentedly. "The Jannaway estate," observed Mr. Drayton, "has certainly passed into the right hands." "By the way," I said, turning to the Inspector, "when you were hunting around after me did you happen to make any discoveries in connection with my uncle? He seems to have been a queer sort of customer." The Inspector passed his hand across his scrubby moustache. "Aye, sir," he said drily, "he was all of that and a bit over. I can't say I ever remember a gentleman who managed to keep his affairs more to himself." "But surely you picked up some information about him?" I persisted.