William Ponson, though he had acted throughout in a strictly honourable manner, had never ceased to love Ethel. He bided his time for over two years, then, calling on the widow, he told her of his love and boldly pressed his suit. She then realised that she had loved him all along, and though at first she refused to consider his proposal, his steady insistence wore down her opposition and in 1887, five years after he had first loved her, he obtained his desire, and they were married. The trouble through which she had passed had profoundly modified her character, sobering her and bringing out all that was best in her, and her life with William Ponson, though quiet, had been truly happy. Two children were born, Austin and Enid. ‘And you said the other Dale went to the States, I think?’ asked Tanner, when he had learnt the above facts. ‘Edward? Yes, he got into difficulties too. He was a born gambler. He was owing money everywhere, and the place got too hot for him. He went to the States shortly after Tom was married.’ Tanner felt he had done well. Almost first shot he had found this Mr Clayton and obtained information which must prove of the utmost value. But he had stayed chatting to and pumping the old man for an unconscionable time, and he began to express his thanks, preparatory to taking his leave. And then an idea flashed into his mind, and he sat motionless for some moments, thinking. ‘What was the Dale brother, Edward, like in appearance?’ he asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. ‘Like enough to his brother Tom, but not so good looking, nor with such good manners by a long chalk. But passably well looking for all that.’ ‘But was he a small man?’ ‘Small? Ay, that he was—like Tom. Both were small men.’ Could it be? Edward Dale, a little man with small hands and feet, knowing all about William Ponson’s youth—knowing probably a good deal more than Mr Clayton had told or perhaps knew—Edward Dale, a clerk, had gone to America and disappeared. William Douglas, a little man with small hands and feet, and apparently knowing intimate facts about Sir William Ponson—William Douglas, a clerk, had come from America, his youthful history being unknown. Could they be one and the same? The more Tanner thought over this theory, the more likely it seemed. As he sat smoking with Mr Clayton in the pleasant garden, he went over in his mind all that he had learnt of each man, and was unable to recall anything inconsistent with the hypothesis. But how could he test it? He must make sure. But how? There was of course one obvious possibility. Mr Clayton, if confronted with Douglas, might recognise him as Edward Dale. Or Douglas might recognise Mr Clayton, and so give himself away. It was not a certainty, but it would be worth trying. The Inspector turned to his host.