“I’m picking my words with some care,” Sir Clinton assured him. “I mean ‘if.’ The point’s still in doubt; but I want to play the game with you and take no improper advantage.” The imperturbable face of the secretary showed neither relief nor depression. “It’s very good of you,” he said in a colourless voice. Sir Clinton considered for a moment. Stenness moved over to a chair and sat down. “I think I can put my cards on the table in your case, Stenness,” the Chief Constable said at length. “Nothing I’m going to tell you will be news to you; and there seems no reason why I shouldn’t say it.” Stenness looked up indifferently. His mind seemed to be occupied with something quite apart from the affair in hand. “Go on,” he said, apathetically. “Here are the facts, then,” Sir Clinton began. “You were employed here as Roger Shandon’s secretary. In that capacity, you seem to have had access to his cheque-books. It’s not a usual thing; but I have sound reasons for supposing that it was so in your case.” Stenness nodded his assent. “I don’t deny that,” he admitted. “You have the key of the safe, haven’t you? Would you mind seeing if you can find the cheque-book that Roger Shandon used last?” Stenness walked over to the safe, opened it, and after a few moments’ search he unearthed the cheque-book. “Now,” Sir Clinton went on, “would you mind turning up the counterfoil numbered 60073?” Stenness looked up without showing any emotion on his features. “There’s no such counterfoil in the book,” he admitted. “But you find 60072 and 60074 there?” “Yes.” “Rather a peculiar state of affairs, isn’t it?” “It is.” Sir Clinton turned to another subject. “There’s a bundle of returned cheques in that drawer of the writing-desk, isn’t there?” “There is. Do you want it?” Sir Clinton seemed to disregard the question. “Would it surprise you, Stenness, if you learned that one of these cheques has been abstracted and that it can’t be found? The bank returned it in due course for all that.” Stenness gazed stonily at his interlocutor. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Sir Clinton paused for a moment before continuing. When he spoke again it was in a different vein. “These are all plain facts. Now we come to hypothesis; and of course the ground’s not quite so firm. I think, if you don’t mind, we might put it in the form of one of these John Doe and Richard Roe cases, lest you should think . . .” He left the sentence incomplete. “Now,” he began briskly, “let’s suppose that John Doe is a rich man who has made his money in rather peculiar ways—like the late Roger Shandon, for example. He employs a secretary. I think one may reasonably suppose that a secretary in that case would need to be somebody who could shut his eyes when necessary, and who wouldn’t be apt to judge things too rigidly. In fact, Stenness, he would need to be a fairly unscrupulous fellow himself.” Stenness nodded indifferently. “Go on.”