The detective extended his inquiries to the bank. A cheque had been cashed as described; but it had been paid in gold. The two notes in question had not passed through this bank. Bales went back to the music-hall treasury. “Did you cash that cheque yourself?” he asked the cashier. “No, sir; I sent the porter to cash it.” “Will you let me see the porter?” said Bales. Mr. Flooks sent out for the porter, who was no less a personage than our old acquaintance the showman, Digby Martin, _alias_ Bill Smith, “The Magician of the North.” “You cashed a cheque on Friday for the treasurer?” said Bales, addressing the porter. “Yes,” said the man, hesitatingly. “Yes, I did.” “Send that dog out,” said Mr. Flooks; whereupon a tall grey animal which had followed the porter in a very undog-like attitude, quietly disappeared behind the scenes. “You got the money in gold?” said Bales, fixing the porter with his cold grey eye. The man hesitated, held down his head, changed colour, and then looked at Mr. Flooks. “Don’t look at me,” said Mr. Flooks, “attend to this gentleman.” “What is your name?” Mr. Bales asked. “William Smith’s my own name; Digby Martin was my professional name before I came down to being a porter,” said the man. “Come, you answered that question quickly enough; now why can’t you tell me with the same rapidity whether you got gold for that cheque at the bank or notes?” “I forget,” said the porter, sulkily. “No, you don’t. Now come, Mr. Smith, you changed the gold for notes yourself; you can’t deceive me. Now where did you get the notes?” The porter made no reply, but turning upon his heel to leave the room, he said he did not know what the gentleman meant. “Then I’ll tell you, my friend,” said Bales. “I arrest you, William Smith, on the charge of being concerned in the murder of one Richard Tallant.” We need hardly say that the music-hall gentlemen were not a little surprised at this striking _dénoûment_; their astonishment was much greater than the porter’s. “Oh!” said the porter, when the detective produced those same “bracelets” which had frightened poor Dibble. “You’ve got the wrong ’un, guvner; but suppose I put you on the right track?” “You had better be careful,” said Bales: “anything that you may say now can be used in evidence against you.” “All right, guvner, the truth’s the truth, and you shall have it. I’ve always done my duty by you, Mr. Flooks,” said the porter. “Yes, you have been a sober steady fellow for this year past,” said Mr. Flooks. “There’s a bill out offering a reward to discover the man as did the deed, ain’t there?” “Yes,” said Bales. “I knows that, ’cos I’ve read it: me and Momus read it last night, and there’s a free pardon for him as confesses who may know about it, and yet was not actually concerned in it.” “Yes,” said Bales.