And how rapidly the inquiry had progressed! Never before could Burnley recall having obtained so much information on any case in so short a time. And though his work was by no means complete, he was yet within reasonable distance of the end. After an uneventful crossing he reached Folkestone and immediately went to the police station. There he saw the men who had been on duty when the _Pas de Calais_ had berthed on the Sunday in question. But his inquiries were without result. No one resembling either Felix or Mme. Boirac had been observed. He next tried the Customs officials, the porters who had taken the luggage from the boat, and the staff at the Pier Station. No information was forthcoming. ‘H’m. Means going to Glasgow, I suppose,’ he thought and, turning into the telegraph office on the platform he sent a wire:-- ‘Henry Gordon, 327 Angus Lane, Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow. Could you see me if I called at ten to-morrow. Reply Burnley, Scotland Yard.’ Then he set off to walk to the Town Station to catch the next train for London. At New Scotland Yard he had an interview with his Chief, to whom he recounted the results of the consultation in the Sûreté, and his movements during the past two days, explaining that he proposed to go on to Glasgow that night if Mr. Gordon could see him the next morning. Then he went home for an hour’s rest. Ten o’clock saw him back at the Yard, where a telegram from Mr. Gordon was awaiting him. ‘Can see you to-morrow at the hour named.’ ‘So far, so good,’ he thought, as he called a taxi and was driven to Euston, where he caught the 11.50 express for the north. He usually slept well in trains, and on this occasion he surpassed himself, only waking when the attendant came round half an hour before they were due in Glasgow. A bath and breakfast at the Central Hotel made him feel fresh and fit as he sallied forth to keep his appointment in Angus Lane, Sauchiehall Street. Ten o’clock was chiming from the city towers as he pushed open the office door of No. 327, which bore the legend, ‘Mr. Henry Gordon, Wholesale Tea Merchant.’ That gentleman was expecting him, and he was ushered into his private room without delay. ‘Good morning, sir,’ he began, as Mr. Gordon, a tall man with small, fair side whiskers, and two very keen blue eyes, rose to meet him. ‘I am an Inspector from Scotland Yard, and I have taken the liberty of making this appointment to ask your help in an inquiry in which I am engaged.’ Mr. Gordon bowed. ‘Well, sir, and what do you wish me to do?’ ‘To answer a few questions, if you don’t mind.’ ‘I shall be pleased if I am able.’ ‘Thank you. You were in Paris recently, I believe?’ ‘That is so.’ ‘And you stayed at the Hotel Continental?’ ‘I did.’ ‘Can you tell me what day you left to return to England?’ ‘Yes, it was Sunday, the 28th of March.’ ‘You drove, if I am not mistaken, from the hotel to the Gare du Nord in the hotel bus?’ ‘I did.’