Now Johnson-Meads' last message had reported him as being assured of the _bona fides_ of Engstrom. The "cancellation" of that could only mean one thing--that the Engstrom we knew was a fraud, and that for some sinister purpose he was trading on the good name of a perfectly reputable firm of engineers in Sweden. An hour later I was on my way to London. I arrived there without incident, and for an hour sat with Mr Johnson-Meads in his office in Fenchurch Street. "I am afraid you will think me criminally careless, Mr Sant," he said, "in the matter of my assurance that the man you know as Engstrom was what he professed to be. But I was deceived by a curious coincidence, and can only offer as an excuse that I have not had your training in solving problems of this kind. "You will remember what I told you when I met you in Curzon Street? Well, that remains true. Where I went wrong was in identifying Engstrom with the head of the Swedish firm. "It so happened that I have business friends in Malmo, and, after our conversation, being still very suspicious, I wrote to them asking for information about Engstrom and Linner. I soon received a reply, which was in every way satisfactory, and my correspondent mentioned, quite casually, that Mr Engstrom was actually in London and was staying at the Hotel Cecil. As I had that very day seen the man we now know as Engstrom, that seemed to me to clinch the matter, and perhaps foolishly, I dropped all suspicion. "Now for the curious coincidence. A few days ago I was going home by train about six o'clock. The trains, of course, were packed, and I was `strap-hanging.' We had just left King's Cross when, owing to steam in the tunnel, our train ran with considerable violence into a train which was standing in the tunnel. "The smash was not serious, but the shock was severe, and I was thrown right on top of a gentleman sitting on a seat close by me. A metal dispatch case he was carrying caught my face and, as you will see, cut it very badly. I was stunned for a moment, and when I came round I found the stranger holding me up. He tied a handkerchief round my face, and very kindly helped me out of the train to a hotel, where he got me some brandy, and I soon recovered. "He had to go on, and as we were about to part he handed me his card. I slipped it into my pocket without looking at it, and went home, very much shaken. It was not until two days later that I looked at it. It read: "Engstrom and Linner, Stockholm. Oscar Engstrom.