‘You think you picked up the man described in the letter?’ asked Jimmy, as he produced his six photographs. ‘Was he one of these?’ Like his _confrère_ of a day or two earlier, the man glanced over the cards and unhesitatingly drew out Cosgrove’s portrait. ‘That’s ’im, mister,’ he also said decisively. ‘Where exactly did you pick him up?’ ‘In Knightsbridge, not far from Piccadilly.’ ‘At what time?’ ‘About ten minutes to eight.’ ‘And where did you set him down?’ ‘Over thirty miles away—at a cross-roads away beyond Luton.’ James Daunt sprang excitedly to his feet. ‘What?’ he roared. ‘Where did you say?’ Here, surely, was the impossible! All were agreed that Cosgrove could not have made the run in the time, and yet, it now seemed, he had done so. And then the thought of the tremendous consequences of this discovery overwhelmed every other consideration. If Cosgrove had really been to Luce Manor, particularly after his own denial, he must unquestionably be guilty. And if he were guilty, Austin was innocent. Jimmy believed he now held the evidence which would save his client. He thought rapidly for a few seconds. ‘At what hour did you reach this cross-roads?’ he asked. ‘About quarter-past nine, sir. I remember noticing when I was making up the money.’ And the bogus servant met Austin at the Old Ferry about then! Truly this was a great find! ‘Are you engaged within the next hour or two?’ Jimmy went on. ‘No, sir.’ ‘Very good. Will you drive me to this cross-roads? I’ll make it worth your while.’ They stopped at a post office and Jimmy sent a telegram to Lois asking her to be at the end of the Old Ferry lane at midday. Then the run began. As the vehicle slipped quickly through the traffic, Daunt chuckled with delight. Though he did not in the least understand how Cosgrove had managed it, it was at least evident that he had visited Luce Manor before taking the 10.30 to Montrose. And that, Daunt felt more than ever certain, meant his guilt and the breakdown of the case against Austin. Though, to do him justice, Jimmy’s chief joy was the thought of the happiness this would bring to Lois, yet he was human enough to realise the kudos which must come to him personally from the skilful way he had unravelled the mystery. And yet, had he unravelled it? As he looked back he had to admit that every particle of credit must go to the girl. She it was who had suggested the steps which had led to success—she who had evidently guessed the solution which even now still eluded him.