He was thirty at that time; he would, then, be in the 'fifties now, reasoned Smeaton. The odds therefore were that Mr James Whyman was still in the land of the living. "Mr Millington, you have helped me very much," said the detective, as the old gentleman rose to go. "Now, in your state of health I am not going to allow you to fatigue yourself by catching 'buses and trains. I shall get a taxi here, and it will drive you straight to Lower Halliford, at my expense." Poor Millington's frugal soul cried out aloud at such wanton expenditure, but he was overborne by Smeaton. He departed in the vehicle, beaming with the sense of his own importance, and conscious that he was still of some use in the world. The evening of that same day found the detective at the Queen's Hotel, Manchester. It was pleasant to him to find that his investigations produced a speedy result. Mr Whyman was a well-known citizen, so the head-waiter informed him. He had been first manager and then director of one of the largest businesses there. Two years ago he had retired from active participation in the concern, and had, he believed, taken a big house at Southport. He was a widower with two children. The son had a post in Hong-Kong. The daughter had married and was living in Cheshire. The waiter added that he was popular, and highly respected by all who knew him, perhaps a bit close-fisted, and hard at a bargain. Since his retirement he was often a visitor at the Hotel. The next morning Smeaton, having found Mr Whyman's address in the telephone directory, rang him up. He announced his name and profession, explaining that some documents had me into his possession which he would like to submit for inspection. Might he take the liberty of coming over to Southport during the day at some hour convenient to himself? Mr Whyman's reply was given cordially and unhesitatingly. "With pleasure, Mr Smeaton. Shall we say five o'clock? I am afraid I cannot make it earlier, as I have got a very full day in front of me. I am retired from business in a sense, but I am still interested in a lot of things that require personal attention." At five o'clock to the minute Smeaton was at the fine house of Mr Whyman, near the end of the Esplanade at Southport, commanding a splendid view of the Welsh and Cumberland hills. It was evident that Mr Whyman had prospered in a worldly sense. The house was an imposing one. A butler opened the door, and ushered him into the morning-room, a square, lofty apartment, solidly and handsomely furnished. A moment later the owner entered. He was a tall, finely-built man, with regular, handsome features. Smeaton regarded him closely as they shook hands. There was an obvious frankness and geniality about his manner that fully accounted, for his general popularity. The face was honest, its expression open. His eyes met yours unwaveringly.