The decision was not given in his favour until after Quillian had raised an objection. He maintained that in each case Sir Charles had been mistaken for the same thing—to wit, the representative or agent in advance of a business firm. But the chairman’s decision that Sir Charles had been mistaken for six different representatives of six different firms was generally approved. And as no other member had a claim to make the cheque was handed to him. The chairman then opened the sealed envelope containing the problem on which their ingenuity was next to be expended. It was entitled ‘The Alibi Problem,’ and the terms of it were as follows:— ‘It is impossible for a man to be in two places at once. But it is required so to arrange matters that bona-fide evidence would be procurable that at a certain hour of a certain day or night you were in two places at once, the two places to be not less than one hundred miles from each other.’ ‘Not uninteresting,’ said the Rev. Septimus Cunliffe, ‘but it leaves a good deal to the discretion of the chairman. He will have to decide which of us could produce the best evidence that the impossible had been accomplished. By the way, who is the next chairman?’ ‘Should have been Harding Pope,’ said Wildersley. ‘But as he’s gone, it will be the member elected in his place—our old friend Leonard, Lord Herngill.’ ‘My poor abilities are at your service,’ said Lord Herngill, laughing, ‘at London’s lowest prices always.’ No. IX. The Alibi Problem Lord Herngill read out the demand made by the editor of _The Pig-Keepers’ Friend_ on the ingenuity of the members of the Problem Club. Members were required to produce evidence, that could be given in good faith, that at a certain hour, day or night, they had been in two places at once, the two places not being less than one hundred miles apart. Lord Herngill said that he felt anxious and depressed. His manner and appearance, it may be added, hardly bore out the statement. He assigned his depression to two reasons. Firstly, other chairmen had had the simple task of adjudicating on a point of fact. He—a new member, a novice, a mere babe, as you might say—was required to undertake far more delicate and difficult work, and to base his decision on an estimate of evidence. Secondly, the secretary for the evening was Mr Wildersley. On the last occasion that Wildersley had acted as secretary he had adorned the minute-book with drawings of the chairman which were undoubtedly amusing and possessed of artistic merit, but at the same time were calculated to bring that chairman into ridicule and contempt. ‘So you see, gentlemen,’ Lord Herngill continued, ‘that this is nervous work for me. However, I will make the plunge. Towards the end of dinner a telegram was handed to Mr Feldane over which I noticed him to be chuckling. May I inquire if it had any bearing on the problem before us?’