"No! Not at present, at any rate," answered the Professor. "The police have their own methods, and they don't thank anybody for putting them off their beaten tracks. And--for the present--we won't tell them anything about your seeing Burchill. If we did, they'd be incredulous. Police-like, they'll have watched the various seaports much more closely than they'll have watched London streets for Burchill. And Burchill's a clever devil--he'll know that he's much safer under the very nose of the people who want him than he would be fifty miles away from their toes! No, it's my opinion that Master Burchill will reveal himself, when the time comes." "Give himself up, do you mean?" exclaimed Selwood. "Likely--but if he does, it'll be done with a purpose," answered the Professor. "Well--keep all quiet at present, and tomorrow morning, go and see if you can find out more about Dimambro at that hotel." Selwood repaired to the polite manager again next day and found no difficulty in getting whatever information the hotel staff--represented by a manageress, a general man-servant, and a maid or two--could give. It was meagre, and not too exact in particulars. Mr. Dimambro, who had never been there before, had stopped two days. He had occupied Room 5--the gentleman could see it if he wished. Mr. Dimambro had been in and out most of the time. On the 13th he had gone out early in the morning; by ten o'clock he had returned, paid his bill, and gone away with his luggage--one suit-case. No--he had had no callers at the hotel. But a waiter in the restaurant was discovered who remembered him as Number 5, and that on the 12th he had entertained a gentleman to dinner at seven o'clock--a tall, thin, dark-faced gentleman, who looked like--yes, like an actor: a nicely dressed gentleman. That was all the waiter could remember of the guest; he remembered just about as much of Number 5, which was that Dimambro was a shortish, stoutish gentleman, with a slight black beard and moustache. There was a good reason why the waiter remembered this occurrence--the two gentlemen had a bottle of the best champagne, a rare occurrence at the Hotel Ravenna--a whole bottle, for which the surprising sum of twelve shillings and sixpence was charged! In proof of that startling episode in the restaurant routine, he produced the desk book for that day--behold it, the entry: Number 5--1 Moet & Chandon, 12_s._ 6_d._ "It is of a rare thing our customers call for wine so expensive," said the polite manager. "Light wines, you understand, sir, we mostly sell. Champagne at twelve and six--an event!" Selwood carried this further news to Professor Cox-Raythwaite, who roused himself from his microscope to consider it.