‘Well,’ said the chairman, ‘I must decide that the problem has not been solved. The prize for it not being awarded, the prize for the next competition is doubled. We have now to obtain the solution of the problem from the wily Leonard himself, and at the same time he is required to show us that the problem was possible of solution by us. It is now twenty to eleven and presumably Leonard leaves this hotel at eleven; so we have not much time to spare. If you, Mr Quillian, will unlock the doors and ring the bell, I will tell the waiter that we should be glad to see Leonard for a few minutes.’ But it was Leonard himself who answered the bell. He was a tall young man of good figure. He had not the stereotyped version of good looks, but his face was pleasing and full of humour and intelligence. He carried himself well. His dress was unsuited to the occasion, for he wore a well-cut lounge-suit of dark-blue cloth, and his brown, laced boots suggested a product of Bond Street intended for use in the country. There was no trace of a waiter about him. His manner was easy, confident without being assuming, and marked just by that touch of restraint that a man might show on first introduction to a number of his equals. ‘Well, Leonard,’ said the chairman, ‘we were on the point of sending for you. Your problem has beaten us. Can you show us how we might have solved it, and provide us with the solution?’ ‘Certainly,’ said Leonard. ‘I’d rather expected that I should be wanted.’ ‘Good. Now sit down, won’t you? We’re all quite informal here.’ ‘Thanks,’ said Leonard. It seemed to be tacitly and generally accepted that he had become a guest of the club. Dr Alden proffered his cigar-case; Jimmy brought him a whisky-and-soda. ‘I think I ought to begin,’ said Leonard, ‘by apologising to you for having given you all such a lot of trouble—more especially as it was quite intentional on my part.’ ‘Part of the game,’ said Major Byles. ‘That’s all right. No apologies needed.’