“Do you remember the night of the fight? I don’t suppose that’s graven on your memory. It arose out of something I said to our friend as we left the City hall. Apparently--I only discovered this afterwards--there was a man out there waiting to see Southers, but in the excitement of our little fracas--which began in the City, by the way--Southers didn’t see the man, who either followed him to Lewisham or came on ahead of him. He must have been present in the street when the fight took place. When I got home that night the hall-porter asked me if I would see a very seedy-looking individual, and, as I wasn’t in the mood to see anybody, I refused. A few days later I was stopped in Piccadilly by a man who I thought was a beggar--a healthy-looking beggar, but most beggars are that way. He started by telling me he’d seen the fight, and said he could tell me something about Southers. I wasn’t feeling so very savage then as I had been, and I’d have hoofed him off, but he was so insistent, and in the end I told him to call at my flat. He came that night and told me the most extraordinary story. He said his name was”--Clive Desboyne frowned--“the name’s slipped me for the moment, but it will come back. He was a mate or assistant on a barge run by a man named Attymar----” “Ligsey?” suggested Mr. Reeder, and the other nodded. “That’s the name--Ligsey. I’m cutting the story short because it took a tremendous long time to tell, and I don’t want it to bore you as it bored me. They’ve been running some kind of contraband up the river on the barge, for apparently Attymar is a smuggler on a large scale. That was a yarn I didn’t believe at first, though, from the things he told me, it seemed very likely that he spoke the truth. Certain articles were smuggled up the river on the barge, and others were passed through the Customs by Southers.” Mr. Reeder opened his mouth very wide. “Now I’ll tell you the truth.” Clive Desboyne’s voice was very earnest. “I wanted to believe that story. In my heart of hearts I dislike John Southers--I’d be inhuman if I didn’t. At the same time I wanted to play the game. I told this fellow he was a liar, but he swore it was true. He thinks the police are going to arrest Attymar, and when they do, Attymar will spill the beans, to use his own expression. In the meantime I have recommended Southers to a very important and responsible job in Singapore, and naturally, if this story comes out, I’m going to look pretty foolish. I don’t mind that,” he added quietly, “but I do mind Anna Welford marrying this man.” Mr. Reeder plucked at his lower lip. “Do you know Attymar?” The young man shook his head. “I can’t even say that I know Ligsey, but if he keeps his promise I shall know Attymar to-morrow morning.” “What was his promise?” asked Mr. Reeder. “He says Attymar has documentary proof--he didn’t use that expression but that is what he meant--and that he was going to Attymar’s house to-night to get it.”