J.G. had a criminal mind. He knew exactly what he would have done had he been Jake Alsby and had shot his companion. He would have thrown away the pistol before he bolted. That Jake had not done so was proof to him that he was unaware that the pistol was in his pocket. He was musing on this matter when he heard the door of the outer office open and the sound of low voices. A moment later Miss Gillette came in, a little out of breath. She closed the door behind her. “I’ve brought them both,” she said rapidly. “I ’phoned to Joan--she was just going out.… Can I ask them to come in?” He felt that it was almost an act of humility that she should ask his permission, and bowed his assent. Tommy Anton was a tall young man; the sort that perhaps two women in the course of the years would regard as good-looking, but the rest would scarcely notice. Joan Ralph, on the other hand, was distinctly pretty and unusual. She was dark and clear-skinned, and had one of those supple figures that gave Mr. Reeder the impression that its owner did not wear sufficient clothes for warmth or safety. “This is Tommy, and this is Joan.” Miss Gillette introduced them unnecessarily, for Mr. Reeder could hardly have mistaken one for the other. The moment he saw them, he knew they would have nothing new to tell him if they were left to tell their own stories. He listened with great patience to the repetition of all he knew. Tommy Anton gave a graphic description of his own amazement, consternation and emotions when he had discovered that his partner had vanished. He paid a loyal tribute to the character and qualities of the missing man---- “Did Mr. Seafield ever talk to you about a diamond brooch?” interrupted Mr. Reeder. Tommy stared at him. “No--we were in the car trade. He seldom discussed his private affairs. Of course, I knew about Joan----” “Did your father ever speak of a diamond brooch or clasp?” Mr. Reeder addressed the girl, and she shook her head. “Never… he never spoke about jewellery except--that was years ago when I first met Frank--Daddy put some money into the Pizarro expedition and so did Frank; they were awfully enthusiastic about it.” Mr. Reeder looked up at the ceiling and went rapidly over the folders of his memory. When she was on the point of explaining, he stopped her with a gesture. “Pizarro expedition… 1923… to recover the buried treasure of the Incas. It was organized by Antonio Pizarro, who claimed to be a descendant of the conqueror of Peru… his real name was Bendini--a New York Italian with three convictions for high-class swindles… the company was registered in London, and all the people who put money into the scheme lost it--isn’t that right?” He beamed at her triumphantly and she smiled.