“Was it on the same matter you saw the third man?” “Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager now to give the information he had before withheld. “There was only one thing that took me to Millbank, and that was the papers.” “Did you see him before or after you saw the others?” “Before and after, both.” “Did they know you had seen him or were to see him?” “No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes between them and was after a second string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him to see Wing and met him to get the report.” “Then he was with Wing during the evening?” “Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson, turning cross-examiner. “A question does not always imply ignorance,” said Trafford, smiling, “but sometimes the bolstering up of knowledge not yet in the form we want it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing had a visitor that evening. This man was with him till late?” “He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I parted with him in the shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the train.” “You sent him to try to get those papers from Wing, and he failed.” “Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I took, of course; but I could do no less than take it. In fact it was a desperate thing to use this man, but it was my last hope, and I had no choice.” “Yet he’s square--if I’m rightly informed. No danger from him.” “I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of man to use in such a thing. He’s what you might call too high-toned--not given to that kind of work--that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t take chances that another man might. I guess you know better than I can tell you what I mean.” “I know. I understand the type of man. He gave you no hope of securing the papers?” “None whatever. Wing positively refused every suggestion in regard to them, and left the impression on his mind that further attempt was useless. While I felt that another man might have done better, I was certain that his effort had uncovered Wing’s exact position; that Wing was determined to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced of the same thing.” “Still you urged him to make another effort.” “No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem worth while--at least along those lines. While we were talking, I heard the warning bell and we hurried, turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s store and the post-office. As I left him, I remember saying that I’d give the man who would put those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.” “A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford, for once at least showing his surprise. “Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness coming into his eyes; “I’ll give you that sum for the papers this minute.” “I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half regretful and half as if he was groping in his memory for something that bore on the matter.