‘I think not, sir, and I thank you for the way you have met me. What happened was this,’ and Broughton related in detail his visit to the docks, the mishap to the casks, the discovery of the sovereigns and the woman’s hand, the coming of Mr. Felix and the interview in the quay office, ending up by placing the twenty-one sovereigns in a little pile on the chief’s desk. When he ceased speaking there was silence for several minutes, while Mr. Avery thought over what he had heard. The tale was a strange one, but both from his knowledge of Broughton’s character as well as from the young man’s manner he implicitly believed every word he had heard. He considered the firm’s position in the matter. In one way it did not concern them if a sealed casket, delivered to them for conveyance, contained marble, gold, or road metal, so long as the freight was paid. Their contract was to carry what was handed over to them from one point to another and give it up in the condition they received it. If any one chose to send sovereigns under the guise of statuary, any objection that might be raised concerned the Customs Department, not them. On the other hand, if evidence pointing to a serious crime came to the firm’s notice, it would be the duty of the firm to acquaint the police. The woman’s hand in the cask might or might not indicate a murder, but the suspicion was too strong to justify them in hiding the matter. He came to a decision. ‘Broughton,’ he said, ‘I think you have acted very wisely all through. We will go now to Scotland Yard, and you may repeat your tale to the authorities. After that I think we will be clear of it. Will you go out the way you came in, get a taxi, and wait for me in Fenchurch Street at the end of Mark Lane.’ Mr. Avery locked the private door after the young man, put on his coat and hat, and went into the outer office. ‘I am going out for a couple of hours, Wilcox,’ he said. The head clerk approached with a letter in his hand. ‘Very good, sir. A gentleman named Mr. Felix called about 11.30 to see you. When I said you were engaged, he would not wait, but asked for a sheet of paper and an envelope to write you a note. This is it.’ The managing director took the note and turned back into his private office to read it. He was puzzled. He had said at 11.15 he would be engaged for half an hour. Therefore, Mr. Felix would only have had fifteen minutes to wait. As he opened the envelope he wondered why that gentleman could not have spared this moderate time, after coming all the way from the docks to see him. And then he was puzzled again, for the envelope was empty! He stood in thought. Had something occurred to startle Mr. Felix when writing his note, so that in his agitation he omitted to enclose it? Or had he simply made a mistake? Or was there some deep-laid plot? Well, he would see what Scotland Yard thought.