“What time was this?” She could tell him exactly, because she had heard Greenwich Church striking the half-hour. Mr. Reeder might be bored with investigation, but he found some satisfaction in boredom. The _Allanuna_ still lay off Greenwich, and he hired a boat to take him to the barge. The disconsolate Master Hobbs was still on board, and even the fact that he was now commander did not compensate him for his loneliness, though apparently the police had supplied him with food and had arranged to relieve him that evening. He was very emphatic about the visitation of Ligsey. He had rowed alongside and whistled to the boy--the whistle had wakened him. From under the companion steps he had looked over and seen him sitting in the boat, a big white bandage round his head. Miss Rosie had said nothing about the white bandage, but, calling on his way home, Reeder had confirmation. “Yes, I forgot to tell you about that,” said Rosie. “I see it under ’is ’at. I said ‘What’s that white round your head?’ Fancy me forgettin’ to tell you that!” As a matter of form, Mr. Reeder, when he got home that night, jotted down certain sequences. At some time after eight on the night of the murder, Attymar had come in a launch, had collected Ligsey and taken him towards London. At nine-thirty Johnny Southers had called at Attymar’s house, and, according to his story, had been sent on a fool’s errand to Highgate. At some time about eleven o’clock the murder had been discovered---- Mr. Reeder put down his pen and frowned. “I am getting old and stupid,” he said, reached for the telephone and called a number to which he knew Gaylor would certainly be attached at that hour. It was Gaylor’s clerk who answered him, and, after about four minutes’ wait, Gaylor himself spoke. “Have you found anything, Mr. Reeder?” “I find I am suffering from a slight softening of the brain,” said Mr. Reeder pleasantly. “Do you realize I never asked how the murder was discovered?” He heard Gaylor laugh. “Didn’t I tell you? It was very simple. A policeman on his beat found the wicket door open, saw the lantern on the ground and the other lantern burning in the lobby of the house--what’s the matter?” Mr. Reeder was laughing. “Pardon me,” he said at last. “Are you sure there wasn’t an alarm bell ringing?” “I didn’t hear of any alarm bell--in fact, I don’t know that there is one.” Mr. Reeder exchanged a few commonplaces, denied that he was making any enquiries about Ligsey, and, hanging up the receiver, sat back in his chair, his hands clasped about his middle and real amusement in his eyes. Later he had a call from the solicitor engaged to defend young Southers. He also suggested that Mr. Reeder should place his services at the call of the defence; but again he refused. Opening the telephone directory, he found the number of Mr. Clive Desboyne, and it was that gentleman who answered his call.