“It doesn’t interest me very much, I confess,” he said. “I am not a member of the--um--Criminal Investigation Department; I was merely called in to deal with this man’s smuggling--and he seems to have smuggled pretty extensively. It is distressing that young Southers is implicated. He seems a nice lad, and has rather a sane view of the care of chickens. For example, he was telling me that he had an incubator…” At the end of the meal he asked permission to take away the notes for study, and this favour was granted. He was at the house in Shadwick Lane half an hour later. Gaylor, who had arranged to meet him there, had not arrived, and Mr. Reeder had two men who had had semi-permanent jobs on the wharf. It was the duty of one to open and close the gates and pilot the lorries to their positions. He had also, as had his companion, to assist at the loading. They had not seen much of Attymar all the years they had been there. He usually came in on one of the night or early morning tides. Ligsey paid them their wages. “There was never any change,” said one mournfully. “We ain’t had the gates painted since I’ve bin here--we’ve had the same little anvil to keep the gate open----” He looked round first one side and then the other. The same little anvil was not there. “Funny,” he said. Mr. Reeder agreed. Who would steal a rusty little anvil? He saw the place where it had lain; the impression of it still stood in the dusty earth. Later came Gaylor, in a hurry to show him over the other rooms of the house. There was a kitchen, a rather spacious cellar, which was closed by a heavy door, and one bedroom that had been divided into two unequal parts by a wooden partition. The bedroom was simply but cleanly furnished. There was a bed and bedstead, a dressing-table with a large mirror, and a chest of drawers, which was empty. Indeed, there was no article of Attymar’s visible, except an old razor, a stubbly shaving brush and six worn shirts that had been washed until they were threadbare. From the centre of the ceiling hung an electric light with an opalescent shade; another light hung over a small oak desk, in which, Gaylor informed him, most of the documents in the case had been found. But Mr. Reeder’s chief interest was in the mirror, and in the greasy smear which ran from the top left hand corner almost along the top of the mirror. The glass itself was supported by two little mahogany pillars, and to the top of each of these was attached a piece of string. “Most amusing,” said Mr. Reeder, speaking his thoughts aloud. “Remind me to laugh,” said Mr. Gaylor heavily. “What is amusing?” For answer Mr. Reeder put up his hand and ran the tip of his finger along the smear. Then he began to prowl around the apartment obviously looking for something, and as obviously disappointed that it could not be found. “No, nothing has been taken out of here,” said Gaylor in answer to his question, “except the papers. Here’s something that may amuse you more.”