And yet this was the man who, according to the dead man, Giovanni Roselli, had been the perpetrator of a great wrong to some person or persons unknown. Well, Smeaton had too vast an experience to trust overmuch to outside appearances. Still, he had never seen anybody who looked less like a rogue than Mr James Whyman, as he stood smiling at him with the most cordial expression in his clear blue eyes. If he was, or had been at some period of his career, a rogue. Nature had taken the greatest pains to disarm the suspicions of those on whom he practised his rascality. Whyman pointed to the table, on which were laid glasses, a decanter of whisky, soda-water, and cigars. "Let me offer you some refreshment after your journey. You smoke? Good. I think you will like those cigars. Let me help you. Now, sir, sit down, and we will get at once to the matter which brings you here." Smeaton produced the envelope, and handed it to his genial host. "I think you will recognise those entwined letters, Mr Whyman. I may tell you that I traced the man who cut them--a man named Millington." Whyman interrupted him in his brisk, bluff way, and there was not a shade of embarrassment in voice or manner: "Ah, my dear old friend Millington! Why, he must be quite ancient by now, for he wasn't a chicken when I knew him." "A very old man, and his memory is treacherous. At first he could remember very little. But later on he found a letter from you which brought it all back to him. I was then able to establish the two things I wanted: your own name, and the name of the Italian company you represented." Whyman turned the envelope in his hand, after having cast a glance at the cipher. The candid blue eyes regarded the detective steadily as he spoke. "Yes, that die was cut by my instructions, certainly. Now, in what way can I assist you, Mr Smeaton, beyond confirming that fact?" Smeaton passed him the threatening letter. "There is no question the envelope came out of your office. Now, do you recognise this handwriting?" The other man read it carefully, and then passed it back, without a trace of confusion. "I am certain that I have never seen that handwriting before. How the envelope was obtained I cannot pretend to guess. Hundreds of people, of course, were in and out of my office during the time I was with the company." "I presume you had several clerks in your employ?" Mr Whyman smiled. "Quite the opposite. It was a small and struggling concern, unprosperous from the start. I only had three assistants at the London branch: an elderly man, and two juniors. I should recognise the writing of any one of those if it were put before me."