"No, sir--good Bank of England notes," answered Jallanby. "Oh, they were all right as regards money--in my case, anyway. And you'll find the same as regards the tradesmen they dealt with here--cash on the spot. They fitted her out with provisions as soon as they'd got her--that, of course, took a few days." "And then went off--to Norway?" asked Scarterfield. "So I understand," assented Jallanby. "That's what they said. They were going, first of all, to Stavanger--then to Bergen--then further north." "Just the two of them?" asked Scarterfield. "Why, no," replied Jallanby. "They were joined, a day or two before they sailed, by a friend of theirs--a Chinaman. Queer combination--Englishman, Frenchman, Chinaman. But this Chinaman, he was a swell--what we should call a gentleman, you know--Mr. Belford told me, in private, that he belonged to the Chinese Ambassador's suite in London." "Oh!" said Scarterfield. "Just so! A diplomat. And where did he stop--here?" "Oh, he joined them at the hotel," answered Jallanby. "He'd come there that night I dined with them. Quiet, very gentlemanly little chap--quite the gentleman, you know." "And--his name?" asked Scarterfield. But the ship-broker held up a deprecating hand. "Don't ask me!" he said. "I heard it, but I'm not up to those Chinese names. Still, you'd find it in the hotel register, no doubt. But really, gentlemen, you surprise me!--I should never have thought--yet, you never know who people are, do you? Nice, pleasant, well-behaved fellows these were, and----" "Ah!" said Scarterfield, with deep significance. "It's a queer world, Mr. Jallanby. Now then, for the moment, oblige me by keeping all this to yourself. But two questions--first, how long since is it that these chaps sailed for Bergen; second, what is the name of this smart little vessel?" "They sailed precisely three weeks ago next Monday," answered the ship-broker, "and the name of the vessel is the _Blanchflower_." We left Mr. Jallanby then, promising to see him again, and went away. I was wondering what the detective made out of all this, and I waited with some curiosity for him to speak. But we had got half way up the old High Street before Scarterfield opened his lips. And then his tone was a blend of speculation and distrust. "Now, I wonder where those chaps have gone?" he muttered. "Of course they haven't gone to Norway! Of course that Chinese chap wasn't from the Chinese Legation in London! The whole thing's a bluff. By this time they'll have altered the name of that yawl, and gone--where? In search of that buried stuff, to be sure!" "If the man who called himself Belford is really Baxter, he'll know precisely where it is," I said.