The question of the man’s “class” was unsatisfactory. Poole had not questioned his earlier witnesses specifically on this point—he blamed himself for not doing so—but he had certainly gathered the impression, both from them and previously from Mr. Hessel, that he was of middle class, a clerk or responsible messenger. Press, however, probably an expert witness on this subject, had been absolutely certain that the man was a “gentleman”—by which he probably meant someone accustomed to command obedience. It was a point which might be of the very first importance and Poole made a note to question Lossett, Tarker, Wagglebow, and possibly Miss Moon, as well as Mr. Hessel, about it in the near future. On the really vital point of the blow, however, there was remarkable unanimity of opinion; not one had seen a blow struck or believed it had been struck, whilst two—Lossett and particularly Mr. Wagglebow (who might be regarded as a most reliable witness)—were absolutely certain that a blow had _not_ been struck. This was a most serious matter; it left a really vital gap in the chain of evidence. For some time the detective sat pondering over this problem and gradually the glimmerings of an idea took shape in his mind. They were so vague, however, that he deliberately put them aside until he had got more information by which to test them. In the first place he determined to try and see Mr. Hessel again that evening and with that object in view, put a call through to the Wanderers’ Club to enquire whether that gentleman was in. While waiting for a reply, he sent for Sergeant Gower, who had been detailed to work under him in this case. Before starting out that morning, Poole had detailed Sergeant Gower to go to the Admiralty and make enquiries about the identity of any possible messenger, either to or from the Admiralty, answering the description given by Mr. Hessel, on the evening of 24th October. The task had not, it appeared, taken Gower long; every incoming message would automatically go through the Registry, as would all outgoing messages, except those sent privately by very senior officers who could afford to ignore, and did sometimes ignore, the regulations. The number of plain-clothes clerks who could be so employed was strictly limited, and when it was further reduced by the condition of a moustache—in a naval office such appendages were as scarce as its marines—it did not take long to discover that no such messenger had been either from or to the Admiralty on the evening in question. As Poole had expected, the Admiralty message was nothing but a myth.