“I follow you,” the manager returned. “It is just possible that you might get something that way, though I must warn you it’s most unlikely. You see, the balance of the payments in notes would not, in the nature of things, require receipts, and conversely most of the accounts requiring receipts are paid by cheque. However, if you wish to make a search, I am prepared to help you. How far back do you want to go?” “The note in question was known to be in the possession of the dead man on Friday, 10th September. It was discovered in the bank here on Monday, October 18th. That is,” he took out his engagement book and rapidly counted, “thirty-three working days: a little over five weeks.” He looked deprecatingly at the other, then added: “Rather a job to go through all that, I’m afraid.” “It’ll take time,” the manager admitted. “But that’s your funeral. If you wish to see our books, I shall be pleased to facilitate you in every way I can.” French thanked him and a few minutes later was hard at work under the guidance of a clerk going through interminable lists of names and addresses. For two hours he kept on steadily, then suddenly surprised his companion by giving a muttered curse. He had come on a name which dashed all his hopes and showed him that his one clue was a wash out. The item read:— “Oct. 6th. Pierce Whymper, Oaklands, Bolton Road, Leeds,—£16 8s. 4d.” “Curse it!” French thought. “There goes all my work! There’s where the twenty-pound note came from all right. That young man has been out at Starvel before the fire and Averill has given him the note for some purpose of his own.” French was disgusted. Though he had known his clue was weak, he had, nevertheless, subconsciously been building on it, and now that it was gone he felt correspondingly at a loss. However, thoroughness before all things! He continued his study of the books, working through the period until he reached the end, but nowhere else did he get any hint of a possible connection with the tragedy. But the same habit of thoroughness prevented his dropping the matter until he had explored its every possibility. He asked the clerk to take him once again to the manager. “Your kind help, sir, and this young gentleman’s, have not been wasted,” he began. “I’ve almost certainly got the man who gave you the note. Unfortunately, however, he turns out to be some one who could have obtained it from its owner in a perfectly legitimate way. So I fear its usefulness as a clue is nil. At the same time I should like to follow up the transaction and make quite sure it is all right. It is this one that I have marked—name of Whymper.” “Fortunately,” the manager answered, “that is an easier proposition than the last.” He directed the clerk to conduct French to a Mr. Bankes. “Mr. Bankes will give you details about that case,” he went on, “and if there is anything further you require, just come back to me.”