"I should like to know what the cheque for three thousand guineas was for," answered the Professor. "It was paid out to one Luigi Dimambro, whose address was written down by himself in endorsing the cheque as Hotel Ravenna, Soho. He, presumably, is a foreigner, an Italian, or a Corsican, or a Sicilian, and the probability is that Jacob Herapath bought something from him that day, and that the transaction took place after banking hours." "How do you deduce that?" asked Mr. Halfpenny. "Because Dimambro cashed his cheque as soon as the bank opened its doors next morning," answered the Professor. "If he'd been given the cheque before four o'clock on November 12th, he'd have cashed it then." "The cheque may have been posted to him," said Mr. Halfpenny. "May be; the point is that it was drawn by Jacob on November 12th and cashed at the earliest possible hour next day," replied the Professor. "Now, though it may have nothing to do with the case, I want to know what that cheque referred to. More than this, I have an idea. May not this man Dimambro be the man who called on Jacob Herapath at the House of Commons that night--the man whom Mountain saw, but did not recognize as one of his master's usual friends or acquaintances? Do you see that point?" Mr. Tertius and Selwood muttered expressions of acquiescence, but Mr. Halfpenny shook his head. "Can't see anything much in it," he said. "If this foreign fellow, Dimambro, was the man who called at the House, I don't see what that's got to do with the murder. Jacob Herapath, of course, had business affairs with all sorts of queer people--Italians, Spaniards, Chinese--many a Tom, Dick, and Harry of 'em; he bought curios of all descriptions, and often sold them again as soon as bought." "Very good suggestion," said Professor Cox-Raythwaite. "He may have bought something extremely valuable from this Dimambro that day, or that night, and--he may have had it on him when he was murdered. Clearly, we must see this Luigi Dimambro!" "If he's the man who called at the House, you forget that he's been advertised for no end," said Selwood. "No, I don't," responded the Professor. "But he may be out of the country: may have come to it specially to see Jacob Herapath, and left it again. I repeat, we must see this man, if he's to be found. We must make inquiries--cautious, guarded inquiries--at this hotel in Soho, which is probably a foreigners' house of call, a mere restaurant. And the very person to make those inquiries," he concluded, turning to Selwood and favouring him with a smack of the shoulder, "is--you!" Selwood flinched, physically and mentally. He had no great love of the proposed role--private detective work did not appeal to him. And he suggested that Professor Cox-Raythwaite had far better apply to Scotland Yard.