They waited motionless as the steps came nearer. Soon a black shadow came into view and moved to the hall door. There was a jingling of keys; the rattling of a lock, the outline of the door became still darker, the shadow disappeared within and the door was closed. Immediately Burnley whispered to Broughton:-- ‘I am going now to ring at the door, and when he opens it I will flash my light in his face. Take a good look at him and if you are sure--absolutely positive--it is Felix, say ‘yes,’ just the one word ‘yes.’ Do you understand?’ They went in through the small gate, no longer taking any precautions against noise, walked to the door, and Burnley knocked loudly. ‘Now, remember, don’t speak unless you are sure,’ he whispered. A light flickered through the fanlight and the door was opened. A beam from the Inspector’s dark lantern flashed on the face of the man within, revealing the same dark complexion and black beard that had attracted Constable Walker’s attention. The word ‘Yes’ came from Broughton and the Inspector said-- ‘Mr. Léon Felix, I am Inspector Burnley from Scotland Yard. I have called on rather urgent business, and would be glad of a few minutes’ conversation.’ The black-bearded man started. ‘Oh, certainly,’ he said, after a momentary pause, ‘though I don’t know that it is quite the hour I would have suggested for a chat. Will you come in?’ ‘Thanks. I’m sorry it’s late, but I have been waiting for you for a considerable time. Perhaps my man might sit in the hall out of the cold?’ Burnley called over one of his men who had been stationed near the summer-house. ‘Wait here till I speak to Mr. Felix, Hastings,’ he said, giving him a sign to be ready if called on. Then, leaving Broughton outside with Constable Walker and the other men, he followed Felix into a room on the left of the hall. It was fitted up comfortably though not luxuriously as a study. In the middle of the room stood a flat-topped desk of modern design. Two deep, leather-covered arm-chairs were drawn up on each side of the fireplace, in which the embers still glowed. A tantalus stood on a small side table with a box of cigars. The walls were lined with bookshelves with here and there a good print. Felix lighted a reading-lamp which stood on the desk. He turned to Burnley. ‘Is it a sitting down matter?’ he said, indicating one of the arm-chairs. The Inspector took it while Felix dropped into the other. ‘I want, Mr. Felix,’ began the detective, ‘to make some inquiries about a cask which you got from the steamer _Bullfinch_ this morning--or rather yesterday, for this is really Tuesday--and which I have reason to believe is still in your possession.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘The steamboat people think that a mistake has been made and that the cask that you received was not the one consigned to you, and which you expected.’ ‘The cask I received is my own property. It was invoiced to me and the freight was paid. What more do the shipping company want?’