“I don’t know so much about it as you. Daddy put five hundred pounds into it and Frank put a hundred--he was at Oxford then. I know they lost their money. Frank didn’t mind very much, but Daddy was annoyed, because he was sure there were great treasure houses in Peru that had yet to be discovered.” “And was there a talk of diamond brooches?” asked Mr. Reeder. She hesitated. “Jewels--I don’t remember that there was anything said about brooches.” J.G. wrote down three words, one of which, she saw, was “Pizarro.” The second seemed to bear some resemblance to “Murphy.” She thought the association of the two names was a little incongruous. He questioned her shortly about her own situation. She had a small private income and there was no immediate urgency so far as money was concerned. And then she asked if she could see him alone. Mr. Reeder had a happy feeling that Miss Gillette entirely disapproved of the request. She could do no less than withdraw, taking her Tommy with her. He found himself being sorry for that dumb and ordinary young man--so ordinary indeed that Mr. Reeder for the first time became conscious of his mental superiority to his secretary. He had even the courage to open the door and look out. The murmur of voices from Miss Gillette’s room assured him that they were safe from the eavesdropping propensities of that curious young lady. “Mr. Reeder,” he realized from her tone that Joan Ralph was finding some difficulty in fitting her thoughts into words, “I suppose it has occurred to you that my father may have gone off with--somebody. I am not stupid about these things and I know that men of his age do have--well, affairs. But I am perfectly sure that Daddy had none. Dr. Ingham hinted tactfully that this might be the situation; the doctor was awfully sweet about it, but I know that theory is wrong. Daddy had no friends. I used to open all his letters and there was never one that he objected to my seeing.” “The letters that came to the office too?” he asked. She smiled at the question. “Naturally I did not see those--those were very few, and Daddy had nothing furtive in his composition. I did know that he was corresponding with Dr. Ingham; my father was what is known as a High Churchman and wrote letters to the Church papers. That is practically the only friend he had outside our little circle at Bishop’s Stortford.” Mr. Reeder looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you think Frank Seafield had--um--a lady friend?” he asked. She was emphatic on this point. He would have been surprised if she had not been. He guided her to Miss Gillette’s room and presently he heard the three go out. That Miss Gillette should have left the office without asking permission was not remarkable. With great care he composed three telegrams, and, calling at the post office, handed them in. One was certainly addressed to Murphy. A tramcar deposited him within walking distance of Brixton Prison, where men under remand are segregated.