He put the envelope away in his pocket-book and, going down to the street, joined Broughton in the taxi. They rattled along the crowded thoroughfares while Mr. Avery told the clerk about the envelope. ‘I say, sir,’ said the latter, ‘but that’s a strange business. When I saw him, Mr. Felix was not at all agitated. He seemed to me a very cool, clear-headed man.’ It happened that about a year previously the shipping company had been the victim of a series of cleverly planned robberies, and, in following up the matter, Mr. Avery had become rather well acquainted with two or three of the Yard Inspectors. One of these in particular he had found a shrewd and capable officer, as well as a kindly and pleasant man to work with. On arrival at the Yard he therefore asked for this man, and was pleased to find he was not engaged. ‘Good morning, Mr. Avery,’ said the Inspector, as they entered his office, ‘what good wind blows you our way to-day?’ ‘Good morning, Inspector. This is Mr. Broughton, one of my clerks, and he has got a rather singular story that I think will interest you to hear.’ Inspector Burnley shook hands, closed the door, and drew up a couple of chairs. ‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I am always interested in a good story.’ ‘Now, Broughton, repeat your adventures over again to Inspector Burnley.’ Broughton started off and, for the second time, told of his visit to the docks, the damage to the heavily built cask, the finding of the sovereigns and the woman’s hand, and the interview with Mr. Felix. The Inspector listened gravely and took a note or two, but did not speak till the clerk had finished, when he said:-- ‘Let me congratulate you, Mr. Broughton, on your very clear statement.’ ‘To which I might add a word,’ said Mr. Avery, and he told of the visit of Mr. Felix to the office and handed over the envelope he had left. ‘That envelope was written at 11.30,’ said the Inspector, ‘and it is now nearly 12.30. I am afraid this is a serious matter, Mr. Avery. Can you come to the docks at once?’ ‘Certainly.’ ‘Well, don’t let us lose any time.’ He threw a London directory down before Broughton. ‘Just look up this Felix, will you, while I make some arrangements.’ Broughton looked for West Jubb Street, but there was no such near Tottenham Court Road. ‘I thought as much,’ said Inspector Burnley, who had been telephoning. ‘Let us proceed.’ As they reached the courtyard a taxi drew up, containing two plain clothes men as well as the driver. Burnley threw open the door, they all got in, and the vehicle slid quickly out into the street. Burnley turned to Broughton. ‘Describe the man Felix as minutely as you can.’