Nevertheless, Whyland determined to make a very thorough investigation into Mr. Copperdock’s habits and associates. He was rewarded by the discovery of two very interesting facts. A representative of Scotland Yard, announcing himself as an agent of the Planet Typewriter Company, the manufacturers of the machine owned by Mr. Copperdock, and used by his son for writing business letters, called at the tobacconist’s shop, ostensibly for the purpose of inspecting the machine. He succeeded in carrying away with him a specimen of its work, which was submitted to experts. They reported that, although there were no perceptible peculiarities in any of the letters which would enable them to identify this specimen with the address on the envelope sent to Richard Pargent, there was, on the other hand no discrepancy between the two types, and that therefore the envelope might well have been typed on Mr. Copperdock’s machine. This, though disappointingly inconclusive, was to Whyland’s ideas a point to be remembered should any corroborative evidence come to light. Among the circle in whose actions he found himself interested, the Copperdocks were the only people who possessed a typewriter at all. As a matter of fact, Mr. Copperdock had only purchased it quite recently, at the instance of Ted, who while stoutly maintaining that no respectable tradesman could be without one, had been suspected by his shrewd father of less disinterested motives. Certainly it had seemed only natural that, the machine once purchased, the expert Ivy should come in of an evening and show Ted how to work it; but Mr. Copperdock had a way of winking at his son behind her back which made that ingenuous youth blush most embarrassingly. The second curious fact was discovered by Inspector Whyland almost by accident. In his study of Mr. Copperdock and his associates, he had taken to frequenting the saloon bar of the Cambridge Arms, carefully choosing such times as Mr. Copperdock was busy in the shop. There was nothing in any way suspicious about the Cambridge Arms; it lay in one of the streets which run southwards from Praed Street, and was consequently almost hidden in a backwater. Its remarkably cosy little saloon bar was patronized chiefly by the neighbouring small tradesmen, and its habitués were all well-known to the proprietor, with whom Whyland soon became on confidential terms. A couple of days after the inquest on Richard Pargent, Whyland turned into the Cambridge Arms just as its doors were opened, at five o’clock. The proprietor met him with a smile, and, having executed his order, leant over the bar and entered into conversation. “I never thought, when I opened up last Saturday, that that poor fellow was being murdered at that very minute,” he began. “Just about five o’clock, wasn’t it, sir?” Whyland nodded. “The clock was striking five as they picked him up,” he replied.