Why should I not make a clean breast of the matter to the inspector? Vera had already proved herself base and treacherous. For her I had suffered enough in that Russian dungeon, at the horrors of which I involuntarily shuddered, even then. Were I to give my right name the suspicion could easily be removed, and I should be a free man. I was wavering. I own I felt almost inclined to do it. Then I reflected that my wife must know the secret of the seal, and that in the event of my release detectives would be busy. What if it were traced to her and she stood in the position I then was? No, I decided to conceal my identity, come what might, for I had not forgotten the promise I made her before we parted. In a couple of weeks her explanation would be forthcoming, and in the meantime the police might do their worst. Presently the inspector returned, and I was taken to a small room leading from the charge-room. "How did this seal come into your possession?" the officer asked sharply. "It was given to me." "By whom?" "By a man who is dead." "What was his name?" "I do not know." "You don't know; or you won't tell me, which?" "I have already answered." "We shall want to know more than that," he said, ominously. "Unsatisfactory as my answer may be it is nevertheless a fact," I replied. "You expect us to believe it?" he asked with a suspicious smile. "Discredit it if you like, it's all the same to me," I replied rather disinterestedly, after which the officer turned on his heel and left. I sank upon a chair in a semi-exhausted state, and tried to think of some way out of this maze, for I could plainly see none of my statements appeared to have even the elements of truth. The constable stood silently at the door, his arms folded, his gaze fixed upon me. He was watching me, fearing, perhaps, lest I should attempt suicide to escape justice. Shortly afterwards three men entered, accompanied by the inspector. Two were detectives--I knew them at a glance--the other a tall, dark man, with curled moustaches, pointed beard, and a pair of keen grey eyes. He spoke with authority, in a sharp, abrupt tone, and, as I afterwards discovered, I was correct in thinking him the superintendent of that division of Metropolitan police. "I understand you give a false name, refuse your address, and decline to say how you came possessed of this seal?" he said to me. "The seal was given me by a man who is dead," I repeated, calmly. "Has that man any relations living?" "I don't know." "What evidence can you bring to corroborate your statement that it was given to you?" "None. But stay--I have one friend whom I told of the occurrence, although I do not wish him to be brought into this matter." "You refuse to name him, or call him on your behalf?" said the chief officer, raising his eyebrows. "I do." "Are you aware of the significance of this symbol?" "Perfectly--in a general sense."