French saw that she had settled the matter of his procedure. In her present condition he could not probe her with subtle questions. There was nothing for it but to take his departure, and this he did as unobtrusively as he could, leaving her in Harrington’s charge. He wondered who would take Mr. Duke’s place in the firm, with whom he would have to deal if his efforts to trace the missing diamonds became successful, and determined to call at the office and make some inquiries. He therefore took the tube to the City, and some half-hour later was mounting the steps of the Hatton Garden establishment. Mr. Schoofs had already taken charge, and saw his visitor in his late principal’s office. The business, he believed, would belong to Miss Duke, though he had no actual reason to say so. However, Messrs. Tinsley & Sharpe of Lincoln’s Inn were the deceased gentleman’s solicitors, and no doubt fuller information could be obtained from them. “I came over last night, and am just carrying on in the meantime,” he explained, “and you can deal either with me or with Mr. Tinsley.” “Thanks,” French answered. “Then I shall deal with you.” “We’re really closed for business to-day, you understand,” went on Mr. Schoofs. “I’m merely taking the opportunity to go through Mr. Duke’s papers and see how things stand. If only Harrington had had his partnership, it would be his job, but as it is, everything devolves on me.” French, having replied suitably, made a move to go, but he lingered and went on: “Unexpected, the old man going off like that, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have thought he was that kind at all.” Mr. Schoofs made a gesture of commiseration. “Nor was he,” he agreed, “but it’s not so surprising after all. You possibly didn’t see him during the last week or two, but I can tell you, he was in a bad way; very depressed, and getting worse every day. I don’t think he was well—I mean in health, and I think it reacted on his mind. He was worrying over the loss of his money.” “Was he really bankrupt?” Mr. Schoofs had not the figures, but he very gravely feared it. It was a bad lookout for his daughter. Indeed, it was a bad lookout for them all. It was hard lines on elderly men when they had to give up their jobs and start life again. It was that damned war, responsible for this as well as most of the troubles of the times. It had probably made a difference to the Inspector also? “Lost my eldest,” said French gruffly, and turned the conversation back to the late principal. He was, it seemed, going to Amsterdam on routine business. He had no stones with him, and there was therefore nothing to suggest that his disappearance could have been due to other than suicide. French had not really doubted the conclusions of the Dutch police, but the death by violence of a man bearing a packet of great value is always suspicious, and he was glad to be sure such had not obtained in this instance.