As they sped swiftly along, the Inspector gave an account of his day to his companion. The latter was restless and excited, and admitted he would be glad to get the business over. He was anxious about the money, as it happened that a sum of £1000 would just enable him to meet a mortgage, which otherwise would press rather heavily upon him. Burnley looked up sharply when he heard this. ‘Did your French friend know that?’ he asked. ‘Le Gautier? No, I’m sure he did not.’ ‘If you take my advice, Mr. Felix, you won’t count too much on the cask. Indeed, you should prepare yourself for something unpleasant.’ ‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed Felix. ‘You hinted that you thought the cask contained something besides the money. What was it?’ ‘I’m sorry I can’t answer you. The thing was only a suspicion, and we shall learn the truth in so short a time it’s not worth discussion.’ Burnley having to make a call on some other business, they returned by a different route, coming down to the river near London Bridge. Already the day was drawing in, and yellow spots of light began to gleam in the windows of the palace hotels, and from the murky buildings on the south side. On the comparatively deserted Embankment they made good speed, and Big Ben was chiming the quarter after seven as they swung into the Yard. ‘I’ll see if the Chief’s in,’ said Burnley, as they reached his office. ‘He wanted to see the cask opened.’ The great man was getting ready to go home, but decided to wait on seeing the Inspector. He greeted Felix politely. ‘Singular set of circumstances, Mr. Felix,’ he said, as they shook hands. ‘I trust they will remain only that.’ ‘You’re all very mysterious about it,’ returned Felix. ‘I have been trying to get a hint of the Inspector’s suspicions but he won’t commit himself.’ ‘We shall see now in a moment.’ Headed by Burnley, they passed along a corridor, down some steps and through other passages, until they emerged in a small open yard entirely surrounded by a high, window-pierced building. Apparently in the daytime it acted as a light well, but now in the growing dusk it was itself illuminated by a powerful arc lamp which threw an intense beam over every part of the granolithic floor. In the centre stood the cask, on end, with the damaged stave up. The little group numbered five. There were the Chief, Felix, Burnley, Sergeant Kelvin, and another nondescript looking man. Burnley stepped forward. ‘This cask is so exceedingly strongly made,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a carpenter to open it. I suppose he may begin?’ The Chief nodded, and the nondescript man advancing set to work and soon lifted out the pieces of wood from the top. He held one up. ‘You see, gentlemen, it’s nearly two inches thick, more than twice as heavy as an ordinary wine cask.’ ‘That’ll do, carpenter. I’ll call you if I want you again,’ said Burnley, and the man, touching his cap, promptly disappeared.