“That may be,” rejoined Bannister, “all the same I’ve a feeling in my bones that the solution to the affair lies in Seabourne. After I’ve seen Alan Warburton—and I certainly mean to do that as soon as possible—I’m turning my attention again to the ‘scene of the crime.’ Of course,” he added reflectively, “there may be something in this fantastic story of the Indian calling upon Miss Delaney—my experience as an investigator of all classes of crime teaches me to ignore _nothing_—to disregard nothing—to consider carefully _everything_—no matter how absurd, grotesque, impossible it may appear at first blush to be. I’ve always worked on those lines.” “With that, Inspector, I’m bound to say that I cordially agree,” responded Anthony. “The truth may shine suddenly from the most unexpected quarter. All the same—I’m rather inclined to disagree with your first opinion—that the eventual solution will be discovered at Seabourne. In my opinion—I speak with all deference, of course—the answer to the riddle will be found up here.” Bannister shrugged his shoulders. “Time will tell, Mr. Bathurst. Meanwhile there is Mr. E. Kingsley Stark.” That gentleman was punctual to the minute. Half-past eleven saw him ascending the main staircase of the “Grand Hotel.” When he reached the top, Bannister met him on the carpeted landing. “Mr. Stark? Come in here, will you? I have arranged that we shall be free from interruption. This gentleman is Mr. Anthony Bathurst—you can speak in front of him with perfect confidence and you can depend upon his discretion. I am Chief-Inspector Bannister of New Scotland Yard—you wished to see me, I believe?” Stark entered the room that Bannister indicated fluttering with suppressed excitement and with a sense of tremendous impatience. He had heard of Bannister—who hadn’t come to that?—and immediately, for him, the case began to assume greater proportions than ever before. He plucked the lemon-coloured glove from his right-hand and bowed to his auditors, somewhat consequentially. “That is so,” he opened, “and I think it will not be very long before I am able to convince you, Inspector, that I have information for you of the most—er—paramount importance. For I am sure that I have.” “Let’s have it, then,” declared Bannister, “my ears are open. Sit down.” “At the present time,” proceeded Stark, “I hold the position of Manager of the Westhampton branch of the Mutual Bank. But you know that, of course.” “One moment,” came the quick interruption, “how long have you held that position?” “I came here in May—the May of last year. What I have to tell you will not take me very long. I read in this morning’s paper that the young lady found murdered at the dentist’s at Seabourne has now been identified as a Miss Sheila Delaney of Tranfield—the village adjoining Westhampton. Am I correct in that statement, Inspector Bannister?” “We have good and substantial reasons to believe so,” conceded Bannister.