Simon took a photographic print from his pocket, showing the lady's hand and part of the receipt, very blurred and faint, with some hieroglyphic figures mistily appearing. 'Looks like 6,706,' said Albert. 'It's either 6,706 or 6,766,' Simon concurred. 'Now, Ravengar's receipt must be numbered next to hers. Consequently, if we go and look at the counterfoils and duplicates--' 'Yes,' said Albert, thoughtfully sliding down from the piano. 'We may be able to find out something very interesting,' Simon finished, descending also. 'Now?' 'Now. That's what I wanted you for. You've got your pass-keys and everything, haven't you?' 'Yes.' 'Then run down and search.' 'Aren't you coming too?' 'I was only thinking, suppose the governor came back and wanted me?' Albert gazed contemptuously at this exhibition of timidity--the cowardice of a born valet, he deemed it. 'Oh, of course,' he exclaimed, 'if you--' 'I'll come,' said Simon boldly. 'If he wants me he must wait, that's all.' They descended together in Hugo's private lift, direct from the dome; the Medical and Pharmaceutical Department was on the ground-floor. Simon acted as lift-man, and slammed the grill when they emerged. 'Just open that again, Si,' Albert requested him. 'Why? What's up?' 'Just open it.' Albert was sniffing about like a dog that is trying to decide whether there is not something extremely attractive in the immediate neighbourhood. He re-entered the lift, and nosed it curiously. Suddenly he bent down and peered under the cushioned seat of the lift, and drew forth an object that resembled in shape a canister of disinfectant powder. 'Conf--!' he exclaimed, dropping it sharply. 'It's hot. What in the name of--' He kicked the object out of the lift on to the tessellated floor of a passage which led to the Fish and Game Department. 'I bet you I can hold it,' said Simon boastfully. And, at the expense of his fingers, he picked it up, and successfully carried it into the Fish and Game Department, where a solitary light (which burnt night and day) threw a dim radiance over vast surfaces of white marble dominated by silver taps. The fish and game were below in the refrigerators. Simon let the cylinder fall on to a slab; Albert turned a tap, and immediately the cylinder was surrounded by clouds of steam. The phenomenon was like some alchemical and mysterious operation. And the steam, as it rose and spread abroad in the immense, pale interior, might have been the fumes of a fatal philtre distilled by a mediaeval sorcerer. 'I hope it won't blow up!' Simon ejaculated. 'Not it!' said Albert. 'Let's have a look at it now.' Albert had a mechanical bent, and, with the aid of a tool, he soon discovered that the cylinder was divided into two parts. In the lower part was burning charcoal. In the upper, carefully closed, was paraffin. The division between the two compartments consisted of some sort of soldering lead, which the heat of the charcoal had gradually been melting.