For when he arrived at Day, Forshaw and Palmers’ next morning he found a condition of extreme excitement and agitation. Detective-Inspector Goodall was in charge of the case—a case that had cost Day, Forshaw and Palmers Schedule Nos. 37, 38 and 39 in their sale catalogue, and their night-watchman his life. Linnell’s hand shook when he heard what had happened. The conviction came to him that he was connected with the affair. Acting upon a sudden impulse, he went in. CHAPTER III The Hanover Galleries Murder Just inside the room he was stopped. Two six-feet members of the Metropolitan Police barred his further entrance. “Sorry, sir,” said one of them, “but our orders are to admit nobody.” Linnell paused—then under the influence of a sudden idea—he produced his card. “Give that to the Inspector who has the case in hand, will you?” he said; “it’s just possible I may be able to help him.” He looked straight at the officer. “Very well, sir,” rejoined the latter. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” He spoke to his colleague. “You stay here—I’ll go and have a word with the Chief about this gentleman.” He was soon back. “Detective-Inspector Goodall will see you, sir! This way, if you please!” He piloted Linnell down the lengthy room. A group of men were standing at the far end. Goodall was in the center of the group. Linnell saw a clean-shaven man of medium height and stoutish build—dressed in a double-breasted blue serge suit. He awaited Linnell’s approach with uplifted eyebrows. “Mr. Linnell?” he interrogated—quickly and decisively. “Of——?” “Merryweather, Linnell and Daventry—Cornhill,” replied Linnell—to the point as always. “I am the senior partner of the firm.” “You have important information for me, I understand,” cut in Goodall. “Information,” corrected Linnell. “You must be the judge of its importance.” “Well, I’m listening, Mr. Linnell. Go ahead!” “Before I tell you what I know—would you, in your turn, be good enough to tell me if the rumors that are traveling round outside—are correct? Are you investigating a case of murder and robbery?” “I am! A robbery has taken place here since shutting-up hours last evening—and a poor devil of a watchman been bashed on the head—he’s as dead as mutton. Where do you come in?” “Maybe not at all, Inspector. But my firm had a rather peculiar commission entrusted to it yesterday in relation to the sale that was to have taken place here to-morrow. And it struck me when I heard——” “Aren’t you a bit imaginative, Mr. Linnell?” demanded Goodall. “How could anything you—still—let’s hear all about it.” “I was going to,” remonstrated Linnell mildly. “We were commissioned to buy three articles that were advertised as having belonged to Mary, Queen of——” “What?” blazed Goodall. “The devil you were. They’re the only three articles we can trace to have been stolen. Who commissioned you?”