A lengthy interrogation of the housekeeper led to nothing fresh. And then began another of those exhaustive searches to which Tanner was so well accustomed, and which always bored him so exceedingly. He found nothing of interest till he came to examine Douglas’s papers, but from them he learned a good deal of the man’s life. Douglas had been, it was evident, a clerk in the Pennsylvania Railroad Terminal in New York, there being letters on railway paper and photographs of groups of employees, as well as a testimonial from the head of the office. This was dated seven years earlier, and referred to Douglas’s service of twenty-one years. The man must therefore have held the position since 1892. Of his life since settling in Devonshire there were records, principally connected with bee-keeping, but of his history before his connection with the Pennsylvania Railroad Tanner could discover nothing. ‘He is surely either an Englishman or a wonderful mimic,’ thought the Inspector, as he recalled the north-country accent with which the man had spoken on the day of his bolt for liberty. The search dragged on, and at last, as it was nearly concluded, Tanner made three finds, though none of them seemed of much value. The first was that when examining with a mirror the blotting paper on Douglas’s desk, he saw that an envelope had been addressed to Sir William Ponson. Unfortunately, in spite of his careful efforts he could trace nothing of the letter presumably sent therein, but the marks were a still further proof of the relations which had obtained between the two men. The second discovery appeared at first sight of even less importance, and Tanner noted it principally as being the only thing he had yet come on which, it seemed possible, might refer to Douglas’s early life. In an old and apparently little used book on American passenger rates, the leaves of which the Inspector was painfully turning over in the hope that some old letter might lie therein concealed, he came on a photograph. Evidently of considerable age, it was faded to a light brown and discoloured as if at some time it had been wet. It was a view of a tombstone and grave with a building—presumably the porch of a church—in the background. A lich-gate showed in the farther distance, while on the stone the inscription appeared as dark, broken lines, the only word decipherable being the first—‘Sacred.’ Tanner put the photograph in his pocket with the idea that this might represent Douglas’s family burying ground, which, if traceable, might throw light on his birthplace. At the same time he felt that such information, even if obtainable, could not help much in his quest.