"Aye, but you don't take my meaning," said Eldrick eagerly. "I mean this--it's just possible that Pratt may see that advertisement of yours, and that he may write to your firm. In that case, as he's here, and you're here, your partner would send his letter to you. Don't deal with it--here. Don't--if you should come across Pratt, even let him know your name!" "When I've a job of this sort," replied Byner, "I don't let anybody know my name--except people like you. When I register at one of your hotels presently, I shall be Mr. Black of London. But--if this Pratt wanted to give any information about Parrawhite, he'd give it to you, surely, now that you've advertised." "No, he wouldn't!" asserted Eldrick. "Why? Because he's told me all he knows--or says he knows--already!" The inquiry agent looked keenly at the solicitor for a moment during which they both kept silence. Then Byner smiled. "You said--'or says he knows,'" he remarked. "Do you think he didn't tell the truth about Parrawhite?" "I should say--now--it's quite likely he didn't," answered Eldrick. "The truth is, I'm making some inquiry myself about Pratt--and I don't want this to interfere with it. You keep me informed of what you find out, and I'll help you all I can while you're here. It may be----" A clerk came into the room and looked at his master. "Mr. George Pickard, of the _Green Man_ at Whitcliffe, sir," he said. "Well?" asked Eldrick. "Wants to see you about that advertisement in the paper this morning, sir," continued the clerk. Eldrick looked at Byner and smiled significantly. Then he turned towards the door. "Bring Mr. Pickard in," he said. CHAPTER XVIII THE CONFIDING LANDLORD The clerk presently ushered in a short, thick-set, round-faced man, apparently of thirty to thirty-five years of age, whose chief personal characteristics lay in a pair of the smallest eyes ever set in a human countenance and a mere apology for a nose. But both nose and eyes combined somehow to communicate an idea of profound inquiry as the round face in which they were placed turned from the solicitor to the man from London, and a podgy forefinger was lifted to a red forehead. "Servant, gentlemen," said the visitor. "Fine morning for the time of year!" "Take a chair, Mr. Pickard," replied Eldrick. "Let me see--from the _Green Man_, at Whitcliffe, I believe?" "Landlord, sir--had that house a many years," answered Pickard, as he took a seat near the wall. "Seven year come next Michaelmas, any road." "Just so--and you want to see me about the advertisement in this morning's paper?" continued Eldrick. "What about it--now?" The landlord looked at Eldrick and then at Eldrick's companion. The solicitor understood that look: it meant that what his caller had to say was of a private nature.