“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use. I can prove that he sent your telegram all right; the girl in the Post Office recognized his description. But I couldn’t get on to his trail after that. I’ve tried the stations and the docks and the posting establishments and the hotels and I can’t get a trace. But of course I’ll maybe get it yet.” “What about the address given on his card?” “Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name known in the district.” “When did the man arrive at the hotel?” “Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you up somewhere else and was following you to see where you’d get lunch.” “Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering how he knew I was going to the Edgecombe.” “It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is, how did he get all that other information about you; the name of your lawyer and so on?” Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up the affair were not rosy. “But what about the burglary?” he went on more hopefully. “That should be an easier nut to crack.” Speedwell was still pessimistic. “I don’t know about that, sir,” he answered gloomily. “There’s not much to go on there either. The only chance is to trace the men’s arrival or departure. Now individually the private detective is every bit as good as the police; better, in fact, because he’s not so tied up with red tape. But he hasn’t their organization. In a case like this, when the police with their enormous organization have failed, the private detective hasn’t a big chance. However, of course I’ve not given up.” He paused, and then drawing a little closer to Cheyne and lowering his voice, he went on impressively: “You know, sir, I hope you’ll not consider me out of place in saying it, but I had hoped to get my best clue from yourself. There can be no doubt that these men are after some paper that you have, or that they think you have. If you could tell me what it was, it might make all the difference.” Cheyne made a gesture of impatience. “Don’t I know that,” he cried. “Haven’t I been racking my brains over that question ever since the thing happened! I can’t think of anything. In fact, I can tell you there _was_ nothing—nothing that I know of anyway,” he added helplessly. Speedwell nodded and a sly look came into his eyes. “Well, sir, if you can’t tell, you can’t, and that’s all there is to it.” He paused as if to refer to some other matter, then apparently thinking better of it, concluded: “You have my address, and if anything should occur to you I hope you’ll let me know without delay.” When Speedwell had taken his departure Cheyne sat on in the study, thinking over the problem the other had presented, but as he did so he had no idea that before that very day was out he should himself have received information which would clear up the point at issue, as well as a good many of the other puzzling features of the strange events in which he had become involved.