‘I have taken the liberty of asking you to be present this morning, as I know the keen interest you take in this case. Following a certain line of inquiry, with the details of which I need not now trouble you, I had the good fortune to come across Mr Clayton here. From what he told me there seemed a reasonable probability that the man whom I arrested in Portugal, and who gave his name as William Douglas, was not so named at all, but was a certain Edward Dale, a clerk in the late Sir William Ponson’s Ironworks, who emigrated to the States in the year 1882. Mr Clayton has been good enough to come up all the way from Newcastle to put this theory to the test. I propose now to confront Douglas with Mr Clayton, so as to see whether the two men recognise each other. I may add that if Douglas has to admit he is Dale, it is more than possible he may make a statement explaining the whole affair. Now, Mr Clayton, might I ask you to sit here at my desk with your head bent as if writing, and when I sign to you, to move round so that Douglas may see your face suddenly.’ A roll top desk was placed at right angles to the wall beside the large double window, and Mr Clayton crossed over and sat down on the swing chair, bending forward as if to write. Anyone entering would see only his stooped shoulders, and the back of his head, but when he swung round his features would be fully lighted from the window. The others placed themselves with their backs to the light, and in view of the door. When he was satisfied as to the position of each, Tanner pressed a bell and a sergeant of the police entered. ‘You may bring him in now.’ The man withdrew, closing the door, and silence came down on the little group. To Lois Drew such scenes were new, and on her expressive features there was a look of compassion for the unhappy man for whom the trap was set, and whose life might depend on his actions during the next few moments. To her the whole business was evidently extremely distasteful, and it was not hard to conclude that only the possibility of helping her lover had induced her to continue to take part in it. Tanner’s emotions were evidently far otherwise. The eagerness of the hunter showed in his eyes, and his whole body seemed on the stretch. He was by no means a cruel man, but he had pitted his wits against the other, and the issue between them was now about to be joined. A knock came to the door, it was thrown open, and William Douglas entered. The man seemed to have aged since Tanner had first seen him at his house at Yelverton. His face was paler, his hair seemed greyer, and he was even smaller and more stooped. Innocent or guilty, he was already paying for his connection with the crime.