That same evening, just before he went off duty at 7 p. m., he remembered Miss Saverel, as she went out, saying something to him about “Blue Diamond” having won—had chaffed him about his “Turf successes,” as she called them. A very nice young lady, pleasant but not familiar—always said good-night to him when she left. This had been one of her late evenings; about once a week on an average she stayed for an hour or two after the others had gone—probably finishing up some work. In reply to Poole’s enquiry, Canting was quite sure that she had not left earlier and come back, as he had been in the hall or his office (as he rather euphemistically described his cubby-hole) all the evening—he always was. Oh yes, he sometimes left it to work the lift—often during the daytime but seldom in the evening—it was all “down and out,” not “in and up” then. After 6 he didn’t suppose he worked that lift once in a blue moon—certainly he hadn’t within the last month or so. No, there was no back- or side-door; everyone coming out had to pass him. This rather water-tight alibi sounded to the detective much less genuine than the more loose and casual one of Captain Wraile; Miss Saverel had so clearly impressed her late exit upon Canting by referring to a horse whose victory could be exactly dated by reference to the sporting press. Poole was prepared to bet that if he questioned the clerks and Mr. Blagge he would find that she had also drawn their attention to her presence in the office at the last possible moment. When he had time he would get a time-schedule down on paper and see what her limits—if she was indeed the driver of the wanted car—must have been; he would then know exactly what he had got to tackle. In the meantime, he must get in touch with Lessingham before closing time. There were two obvious ways of doing this; one by going to the address given him by the Victory Finance Company—the Hotel Antwerp in Adam Street; the other by trying the office of the Rotunda Syndicate. Obviously, Lessingham would not be at his hotel at four o’clock in the afternoon; he might be at his office. Poole went to the nearest telephone-box and looked up the Rotunda Syndicate; it did not figure in the directory. On second thoughts the detective realized that the Rotunda Syndicate was just the kind of concern (from what he had heard of it) that would _not_ be in the Telephone Directory, though it might be on the telephone. There remained the Ethiopian and General Development Company, which would certainly have the address, or its managing-director, Captain Wraile; the latter was closer at hand but Poole thought he had been disturbed quite enough for one afternoon. To the offices of the Ethiopian and General, therefore, Poole made his way and, after asking for the manager—who, of course, was not in—obtained what he wanted, without too great a strain upon his skill and veracity, from the head-clerk.