‘And now, Mr. Felix, can you not think of any others who may have known about the cask?’ ‘There was no one,’ replied the other with decision. ‘I’m afraid we can’t assume that. We certainly can’t be sure.’ ‘Who could there be?’ ‘Well, your French friend. How do you know he didn’t write to others beside you?’ Felix sat up as if he had been shot. ‘By Jove!’ he cried, ‘it never entered my head. But it’s most unlikely--most unlikely.’ ‘The whole thing’s most unlikely as far as that goes. Perhaps you are not aware that some one else was watching the house last evening?’ ‘Good God, Inspector! What do you mean?’ ‘Some one came to the lane shortly after your arrival with the cask. He waited and heard your conversation with your friend Martin. When you and your friend left, he followed you.’ Felix passed his hand over his forehead. His face was pale. ‘This business is too much for me,’ he said. ‘I wish to heaven I was out of it.’ ‘Then help me to get you out of it. Think. Is there any one your friend knows that he might have written to?’ Felix remained silent for some moments. ‘There is only one man,’ he said at length in a hesitating voice, ‘that I know he is friendly with--a Mr. Percy Murgatroyd, a mining engineer who has an office in Westminster. But I don’t for one moment believe he had anything to say to it.’ ‘Let me have his name and address, anyway.’ ‘Four St. John’s Mansions, Victoria Street,’ said Felix, on referring to an address book. ‘You might write it down, if you please, and sign it.’ Felix looked up with a smile. ‘You generally write notes yourself, I should have thought?’ Burnley laughed. ‘You’re very quick, Mr. Felix. Of course it’s your handwriting I want also. But I assure you it’s only routine. Now please, think. Is there any one else?’ ‘Not a living soul that I know of.’ ‘Very well, Mr. Felix. I want to ask just one other question. Where did you stay in Paris?’ ‘At the Hotel Continental.’ ‘Thanks, that’s everything. And now, if you will allow me, I will take a few winks here in the chair till it gets light, and if you take my advice you will turn in.’ Felix looked at his watch. ‘Quarter-past three. Well, perhaps I shall. I’m only sorry I cannot offer you a bed as the house is absolutely empty, but if you will take a shakedown in the spare room----?’ ‘No, no, thanks very much, I shall be all right here.’ ‘As you wish. Good night.’ When Felix had left, the Inspector sat on in his chair smoking his strong black cigars and thinking. He did not sleep, though he remained almost motionless, only at long intervals rousing up to light another cigar, and it was not until five had struck that he got up and looked out of the window. ‘Light at last,’ he muttered, as he let himself quietly out of the back-door into the yard.