Gaylor was dubious, and had reason for his doubt. Chief Constable Mason and the high men at Headquarters were at the moment writhing under a periodical wave of criticism which sweeps across Scotland Yard at regular intervals; and their latest delinquency was the cross-examination of a man under suspicion of a serious crime. There had been questions in Parliament, almost a Royal Commission. “I doubt it,” said Gaylor. “The Chief is feeling rather sick about this Hanny business, and as the kick has come down from your department it isn’t likely that they’ll make an exception. I’ll ask Mason and let you know.” Mr. Reeder was home that afternoon when Anna Welford called. She was most amazingly calm. Mr. Reeder, who had shown some hesitation about receiving her, was visibly relieved. “Have you seen Johnny?” was the first question she asked. Mr. Reeder shook his head, and explained to her that in the strictest sense he was not in the case, and that the police were very jealous of interference. “Clive has been to see me,” she said when he had finished, “and he has told me everything--he is terribly upset.” “Told you everything?” repeated Mr. Reeder. She nodded. “About Ligsey, and the story that Clive told you. I understood--in a way. He is doing everything he can for Johnny; he has engaged a lawyer and briefed counsel.” For the second time Mr. Reeder motioned her to a chair, and, when she was seated, continued his own restless pacing. “If there was any truth in that story, your Johnny should be rather well off,” he said. “The wages of sin are rather--um--high. Yet his father told me this morning--I had a brief interview with him--that young Mr. Southers’ bank balance is not an excessive one.” He saw her lower her eyes and heard the quick little sigh. “They’ve found the money--I thought you knew that,” she said in a low voice. Mr. Reeder halted in his stride and peered down at her. “They’ve found the money?” She nodded. “The police came and made a search about an hour ago, and they found a box in the tool-shed, with hundreds of pounds in it, all in notes.” Mr. Reeder did not often whistle; he whistled now. “Does Mr. Desboyne know this?” he asked. She shook her head. “Clive doesn’t know. It happened after he had left. He’s been terribly nice--he’s made one confession that isn’t very flattering to me.” Reeder’s eyes twinkled. “That he is--um--engaged to somebody else?” he suggested, and she stared at him in amazement. “Do you know?” “One has heard of such things,” said Mr. Reeder gravely. “I was very glad,” she went on. “It removed the”--she hesitated--“personal bias. He really is sorry for all he has said and done. Johnny’s trouble has shaken him terribly. Clive thinks that the murder was committed by this man Ligsey.” “Oh!” said Mr. Reeder. “That is interesting.” He stared down at her, pursing his lips thoughtfully.