e sure, I could save you the trouble by using my own
eyes. How many banks are there in this little city of yours?"

"Three," answered Stebbing promptly. "Old Bank, in Monday Market; Popham
& Hargreaves, in the Square; Wrychester Bank, in Spurriergate. That's
the lot."

"Much obliged," said Jettison. "And--for the present--not a word of what
we've talked about. You'll be hearing more--later."

He went away, memorizing the names of the three banking
establishments--ten minutes later he was in the private parlour of the
first, in serious conversation with its manager. Here it was necessary
to be more secret, and to insist on more secrecy than with the secretary
of the Second Friendly, and to produce all his credentials and give all
his reasons. But Jettison drew that covert blank, and the next, too, and
it was not until he had been closeted for some time with the authorities
of the third bank that he got, the information he wanted. And when he
had got it, he impressed secrecy and silence on his informants in a
fashion which showed them that however easy-going his manner might be,
he knew his business as thoroughly as they knew theirs.

It was by that time past one o'clock, and Jettison turned into the small
hotel at which he had lodged himself. He thought much and gravely
while he ate his dinner; he thought still more while he smoked his
after-dinner pipe. And his face was still heavy with thought when,
at three o'clock, he walked into Mitchington's office and finding the
inspector alone shut the door and drew a chair to Mitchington's desk.

"Now then," he said. "I've had a rare morning's work, and made a
discovery, and you and me, my lad, have got to have about as serious a
bit of talk as we've had since I came here."

Mitchington pushed his papers aside and showed his keen attention.

"You remember what that young fellow told us last night about that man
Collishaw paying in fifty pounds to the Second Friendly two days before
his death," said Jettison. "Well, I thought over that business a lot,
early this morning, and I fancied I saw how I could find something
out about it. So I have--on the strict quiet. That's why I went to the
Friendly Society. The fact was--I wanted to know in what form Collishaw
handed in that fifty pounds. I got to know. Gold!"

Mitchington, whose work hitherto had not led him into the mysteries of
detective enterprise, nodded delightedly.

"Good!" he said. "Rare idea! I should never have t