go with you. Perhaps, Mr. Watson," I
said, turning to the managing clerk, who was standing by as white as a
sheet, "perhaps you will see that this man has proper authority for
taking me."

"Certainly, Mr. Anstruther," he answered, then turning to the detective
he asked for his papers.

"Show me your warrant, please," he said. "I shall not allow Mr.
Anstruther, our client, to leave with you unless you do."

The fresh-coloured officer smiled, and produced from his pocket a blue
paper, together with some other documents. These seemed to satisfy
Watson.

"There seems no help for it, Mr. Anstruther," he said, with them in his
hands. "I am afraid you will have to go with him. This is a proper
warrant signed by a magistrate on sworn information."

"Who are the informants?" I asked.

He referred to the warrant and read out the names.

"Inspector James Bull, Frederick Redfern, surgeon, and Anthony
Saumarez, gentleman."

"Saumarez!" I exclaimed, "the scoundrel and would-be murderer!"

"You had better be careful what you say," remarked the police officer,
"as I may have to take it down, and it will be used against you."

"Yes," confirmed Watson, "you'd better say as little as possible. No
doubt the whole matter is a mistake."

I took up my overcoat and the managing clerk helped me on with it;
meanwhile, the police officer walked to the desk I had been sitting at
and laid his hands on some papers. I looked upon the packets as lost.

Watson, however, stopped him at once.

"You mustn't touch those papers," he said hastily. "They are the
property of Mr. Snowdon, a member of our firm."

"Then what is _he_ doing here?" asked the man, with a jerk of his head
towards me.

"Mr. Anstruther," replied Watson, "was attending to some business
correspondence at Mr. Snowdon's desk, that gentleman being away."

"Where's the correspondence?" asked the detective, with a quick glance
at my two packets sticking out of the pigeon holes. I looked the man
straight in the face.

"My correspondence is finished," I answered, "and in the hands of this
firm."

A little smile about Watson's mouth and a hasty glance at the packets,
convinced me that he understood my remark.

"Very well, then," said the police officer, "we'd better come along.
Provided you come quietly," he observed to me as I followed him out,
"it won't be necessary for me to handcuff you."

That was a comfort I thought, as I went downstairs and through the