“I should explain first who I am, Mr. Fogden.” French handed over his official card. “I have called on business which has already been brought to your notice by the local sergeant. It is about the crate which was sent by your firm to Mr. James B. Stephenson at the G. W. Goods Station at Swansea.” “I saw the sergeant when he called,” Mr. Fogden answered, a trifle shortly. “That was yesterday, and I gave him all the information at my disposal.” “So he told me, sir.” French’s manner was very suave. “My troubling you on the same business, therefore, requires a little explanation. I must ask you, however, to consider what I have to tell you confidential. That crate which you sent to Swansea was duly called for. It eventually reached Burry Port. There it was opened—by the police. And do you know what was found in it?” Mr. Fogden stared at the other with a rapidly growing interest. “Good Heavens!” he cried. “You surely don’t mean to say that it contained that body that we have been reading so much about in the papers recently?” French nodded. “That’s it, Mr. Fogden. So you will see now that it’s not idle curiosity which brings me here. The matter is so serious that I must go into it personally. I shall have to investigate the entire history of that crate.” “By Jove! I should think so. You don’t imagine, I take it, that the body was in it when it left the works?” “I don’t, but of course I can’t be sure. I must investigate all the possibilities.” “That is reasonable.” Mr. Fogden paused, then continued: “Now tell me what you want me to do and I will carry out your wishes as well as I can. I have already explained to the sergeant that the crate contained a Veda Number Three duplicator, a special product of the firm’s, and that it was ordered by this Mr. Stephenson in a letter written from the Euston Hotel. I can turn up the letter for you.” “Thank you, I should like to see the letter, but as a matter of fact I should like a good deal more. I am afraid I must follow the whole transaction right through and interview everyone who dealt with it.” “I get you. Right. I’ll arrange it. Now first as to the letter.” He touched the bell and ordered a certain file to be brought him. From this he took out a letter and passed it to French. Chapter Six The Despatch of the Crate The letter was written on a single sheet of cream-laid, court-sized paper and bore the legend “Euston Hotel, London. N. W. 1.” in blue type on its right corner. It was typed in black, and French could see that the machine used was not new and that some of the letters were defective and out of place. It was signed “James S. Stephenson” in a hand which French instinctively felt was disguised, with blue-black ink apparently of the fountain-pen type. It read: 12 August. Messrs. The Veda Office Equipment Manufacturing Co. Ltd., Ashburton, South Devon. Dear Sirs,