“More rather than less,” said Mr. Berwick with a genial smile, “but how do you know, Mr.—er,” he glanced at the card lying on his table, “Mr. Fuller?” “If you know the name of Inderwick, Mr. Berwick, you may have some idea of how I come to know.” Again Berwick cast a look in Marie’s direction. “Inderwick! Yes, I do know that name. It was mentioned in the newspapers some little time ago, and had to do with a murder case connected with Rotherhithe.” “And with a peacock,” said Marie quickly. “Yes.” Berwick scratched his chin meditatively. “It was supposed—I am quoting from the newspapers—that the man at Rotherhithe was murdered for the sake of the peacock, not a living bird, of course, but a certain ornament.” Marie nodded. “Which is the luck of our family,” she finished. “Oh, then you are one of the Inderwicks of Belstone?” “Yes,” said Alan slowly, “she is the last representative of the family, and the heiress of George Inderwick. Do you know that name?” “I do,” assented Berwick alertly. “On reading the newspapers it led to my recalling certain transactions, which—but pardon me.” Mr. Berwick interrupted himself, “how can I be sure that this is Miss Inderwick?” Marie was about to indignantly assert that she alone had the right to the name, when Alan prevented her. “That is a very natural question, sir,” he remarked, opening the black bag, “perhaps this will assure you of the identity of this young lady.” Berwick stared when the peacock in all its glittering glory was placed under the electric light, and his ruddy face grew a trifle pale as he pushed back his chair uneasily. “It’s the peacock,” he muttered. “You know about the peacock then?” questioned Alan sharply. “Yes! When taking charge of the affairs of Yarbury’s Bank I looked into all business old and new; also searching amongst old documents and examining deeds and papers dealing with various transactions which are in our strong-rooms below. I came across the account of the peacock, and the meaning of the peacock, belonging to George Inderwick, although a certain box which had to do with that bird was placed here by Simon Ferrier.” “Inderwick’s servant,” said Alan dryly, “hum! it seems to me that we are on the right track, Marie.” She nodded again, but Mr. Berwick, who still seemed much perturbed, moistened his lips and spoke unsteadily. “I can certainly supply you with information, which I can guess you require; but before doing so, I should like to send for Inspector Moon.” “But why——” began Marie hotly, only to be interrupted by her lover. “I quite understand what you mean, Mr. Berwick,” he said calmly, “and, of course, under the circumstances, it is necessary that you should take every precaution to safeguard the interests of the bank.” “Precaution, Mr. Fuller?” stammered the manager uneasily.