"Gad!--I thought your old man was unapproachable!" exclaimed Carver. "To all intents and purposes, he is," assented Triffitt. "But I'll see him--and today. And after that--but you'll see. Now, as to you, old man. You're coming in with me at this, of course--not on behalf of your paper, but on your own. Work up with me, and if we're successful, I'll promise you a post on the _Argus_ that'll be worth three times what you're getting now. I know what I'm talking about--unapproachable as our guv'nor is, I've sized him up, and if I make good in this affair, he'll do anything I want. Stick to Triffitt, my son, and Triffitt'll see you all serene!" "Right-oh!" said Carver. "I'm on. Well, and what am I to do, first?" "Two things," responded Triffitt. "One of 'em's easy, and can be done at once. Get me--diplomatically--this man Burchill's, or Bentham's, present address. You know some _Magnet_ chaps--get it out of them. Tell 'em you want to ask Burchill's advice about some dramatic stuff--say you've written a play and you're so impressed by his criticisms that you'd like to take his counsel." "I can do that," replied Carver. "As a matter of fact, I've got a real good farce in my desk. And the next?" "The next is--try to find out if there's any taxi-cab driver around the Portman Square district who took a fare resembling old Herapath from anywhere about there to Kensington on the night of the murder," said Triffitt. "There must be some chap who drove that man, and if we've got any brains about us we can find him. If we find him, and can get him to talk--well, we shall know something." "It'll mean money," observed Carver. "Never mind," said Triffitt, confident as ever. "If it comes off all right with our boss, you needn't bother about money, my son! Now let's be going Fleet Street way, and I'll meet you tonight at the usual--say six o'clock." Arrived at the _Argus_ office and duly seated at his own particular table, Triffitt, instead of proceeding to write out his report of the funeral ceremony of the late Jacob Herapath, M.P., wrote a note to his proprietor, which note he carefully sealed and marked "Private." He carried this off to the great man's confidential secretary, who stared at it and him. "I suppose this really is of a private nature?" he asked suspiciously. "You know as well as I do that Mr. Markledew'll make me suffer if it isn't." "Soul and honour, it's of the most private!" affirmed Triffitt, laying a hand on his heart. "And of the highest importance, too, and I'll be eternally grateful if you'll put it before him as soon as you can." The confidential secretary took another look at Triffitt, and allowed himself to be reluctantly convinced of his earnestness. "All right!" he said. "I'll shove it under his nose when he comes in at four o'clock."