Harrison Smith struck one hand against the other. "By God," he exclaimed. "It's the most unlikely thing in the world but I'm going to believe it. I'm going to believe that the chap with the humorous lines round his eyes is no more Barraclough than I am." He alighted at Waterloo Station aglow with excitement. His first thought was to proceed post haste to Laurence's house and lay before them the result of his deductions, but a second and more personal consideration dissuaded him. There had been little enough encouragement when last he interfered. He had been rudely ordered to leave things alone. No, he would work out this deal himself and if anything came of it approach Van Diest and Hipps for a lion's share of the plunder. Weeks ago it had been arranged; if by any means Barraclough succeeded in slipping through the outposts and obtaining the concession, he was to be quietly thugged on his return and the paper destroyed. As Ezra Hipps had said, "If we fail to get it for ourselves it's damn sure no one else is going to profit." Wherefore all he had to do was to intercept the returning treasure seeker, put him securely away and then talk business to his own employers. Harrison Smith hailed a taxi and told the driver to go down the Commercial Road as far as the Poplar Town Hall. This was not a job that could be tackled single handed--on the other hand it would be unwise to admit more people to his confidence than were absolutely necessary. He dismissed the taxi and proceeded on foot down one of the narrow crooked byways abounding in that region. The place was quiet and deserted save for a few Orientals--Lascars and Chinamen--who leaned against the walls of their dwellings in silent contemplation of the stars. At the side door of a small and disreputable public house he paused and knocked thrice with the handle of his cane and presently the door was opened by a girl. She was a Jewess and lovely to look at, with the fresh, shameless beauty peculiar to very young girls of that faith. Recognising Harrison Smith she smiled a welcome and said: "You're in luck--he's sober! Upstairs, in the front room." She smiled again, revealing a perfect row of little white teeth which mocked the string of cheap pearls at her throat. As he climbed the stairs Harrison Smith speculated on the odd contrast this girl presented to her surroundings. The silk of her stockings, the bangles and gewgaws, the ultra patent leather of her shoes, bore so little relation to the squalor of the narrow passage with its damp stained walls, carpetless floor and hissing gas jet. Probably nowhere in the world do greater incongruities exist than in the East End of London.