“H’m,” muttered Bannister. “I see what you mean, but I don’t know that I can link them up. I’m working in the dark.” He went to Mr. E. Kingsley Stark and held out his hand. “I won’t detain you any longer, Mr. Stark,” he announced cordially. “You’ve helped us considerably. If I want to see you again concerning anything, I’ll let you know. Good morning!” Stark rose and bowed his acknowledgment. “Good morning, Inspector. Good morning, Mr. Bathurst. I’m indeed happy to have been of service.” Bannister conducted him to the door and watched him descend the substantial staircase. He then crossed the landing and telephoned to Ross certain instructions that were to be forwarded to Sergeant Godfrey immediately. When he got back to Mr. Bathurst, he found that gentleman ensconced in the most comfortable of all the chairs—his long legs outstretched to the limit. Mr. Bathurst was a firm believer in physical comfort as a stimulant to mental exercise. He turned his head towards the Inspector as the latter entered. “Well?” he said, “what do you make of him?” “Stark?—very useful evidence—without a doubt. Why?” “I’m not gainsaying that, Bannister,” murmured Anthony gently, “that little story of the ‘Peacock’s Eye’ rather intrigued me, to tell the plain and unvarnished truth. By the way, though, Inspector, did you happen to notice his initials?” Bannister raised his eyebrow—then pulled out the letter Mr. Stark had sent. “E.K.S.?” he queried. “Might conceivably be ‘X’ as pronounced,” suggested Anthony quietly, “it only just struck me—that was all.” Bannister stared. He opened his mouth to answer when a tap at the door destroyed his intention. It was Falcon. “There’s a gentleman wants to see you,” he declared. “He’s downstairs—shall I show him up?” “Who is it?” demanded Bannister. Falcon smiled. “Mr. Alan Warburton.” Chapter XV Alan Warburton Leads Trumps “This is getting more interesting than ever,” exclaimed Bannister. “Lo and behold!—the man I was about to seek—seeks me. I wonder why. Send him up, Falcon.” “Very good, Inspector.”