The next day was Sunday, and, as he had mentioned to the valet, Tanner determined to spend it in going over the late Sir William’s papers. He brought the sergeant out to help him, and they were soon settled in the library, immersed in their work. Tanner, seated at the big roll top desk, went through paper after paper, while the sergeant, with the keys found on the body, unlocked drawers and carried their contents to the desk for his superior’s inspection. The work was tedious, but they kept hard at it, and when after some time Parkes came into the room, they found with surprise that it was nearly two o’clock. ‘What about a bite of lunch, gentlemen?’ the butler invited them. ‘I should be pleased if you would join me.’ ‘Very good of you, I’m sure, Mr Parkes,’ Tanner answered. ‘We’ll be through in ten minutes.’ ‘And have you found anything to help you?’ went on Parkes, running his eye over the open safe and drawers. ‘Not a blessed thing. There’s not the slightest hint of anything out of the common that I can see.’ ‘Well, come to my room when you’re ready.’ On the previous day Parkes had shown the Inspector over the house, and among other things Tanner had noticed large framed photographs of Sir William, Austin, and Cosgrove. Before following the butler he slipped up to the room in which these were hanging and, deftly removing the frames, noted the photographer’s name. Then locking up the library they went to lunch, soon afterwards taking their leave. Though Tanner’s statement to Parkes that he had made no helpful discovery among Sir William’s papers was true, he had noticed one thing which had puzzled him. He had been turning over the blocks of the dead man’s cheque book, and he had found that on the previous Monday and Tuesday—the two days before the tragedy—Sir William had written two cheques, both payable to self. That dated for the Monday was for £100, and that for the Tuesday for no less a sum than £3000. That the deceased should have required such sums immediately prior to his murder was interesting and suggestive enough, but that was not all. What had specially intrigued the Inspector’s imagination was the fact that below the word ‘self’ was in each case one letter only—a capital X. He looked back through the book, and in every other instance found below the name the purpose for which the money was required. These two sums must therefore have been for something so private that it could be designated only by a sign. It was evidently something quite definite, as the blocks of other cheques payable to self bore such legends as ‘personal expenses,’ ‘visit to Edinburgh,’ and so on. What, the Inspector wondered, could it be?