"Exactly! I'm sure it's Mr. Hollis--it's him to a T!" answered the clerk. "I recognized it at once." "Let's get everything in order," said Starmidge, with a glance at Polke. "To begin with, who is Mr. Hollis?" "Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, 59B South Square, Gray's Inn," replied Simmons promptly. "Andwell & Hollis is the name of the firm--but there isn't any Andwell--hasn't been for many a year--he's dead, long since, is Andwell. Mr. Hollis is the only proprietor." "Don't know him at all," remarked Starmidge. "What's his particular line of practice?" "Conveyancing," said Simmons. "Then, naturally, I shouldn't," observed Starmidge. "My acquaintance is chiefly with police-court solicitors. And you say he'd private rooms some where? Where, now?" "Paper Buildings, Temple," replied the clerk. "He'd a suite of rooms there--he's had 'em for years." "Bachelor, then?" inquired the detective. "Yes--he's a bachelor," agreed Simmons. "You know he hasn't been at his rooms since Saturday--you've ascertained that?" continued Starmidge. "He's never been at his rooms since he left them after breakfast on Saturday morning," replied Simmons. "I went there at eleven o'clock Monday--that was yesterday--again at four: twice on Tuesday. I was coming away from the Temple when I got the paper and read about this affair." "When did you see him last?" asked Starmidge. "Half-past-twelve Saturday. He went out--dressed just as it says in your description. And," concluded the clerk, with a shake of his head which suggested his own inability to understand matters, "he never said a word to me about coming down here." "Did he say anything to anybody at his rooms about going away?--for the week-end, for instance?" asked the detective. "There'd be somebody there, of course." "Only a woman who tidied up for him and got his breakfast ready of a morning," said Simmons. "He took all his other meals out. No--he said nothing to her. But he wasn't a week-ender: he very rarely left his rooms except for the office." "Any of his relations been after him?" inquired Starmidge. "I don't know anything about his relations--nor friends, either," answered the clerk. "Don't even know the address of one of them, or I'd have gone to seek him on Monday--everything's at a standstill. He was a lonely sort of man--I never heard of his relations or friends." "How long have you been with him, then?" asked the detective. "Some time?" "Six years," replied Simmons. "And you've no doubt, from the description in the papers, that the gentleman who came here on Saturday last is Mr. Hollis?" asked Starmidge. The clerk shook his head with an air of conviction. "None!" he answered. "None whatever!" Starmidge helped himself to a cigar out of an open box which lay on Polke's table. He lighted it carefully, and smoked for a minute or two in silence. Then he looked at Polke.