x-Raythwaite in his turn handled the cheque. Its face gave
him small concern; what he was most interested in was the endorsement on
the back. Without saying anything to his companions, he memorized that
endorsement, and he was still murmuring it to himself when, a few
minutes later, he walked out of the bank.

"Luigi Dimambro, Hotel Ravenna, Soho."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HOTEL RAVENNA

Once closeted together in the private room at Halfpenny and Farthing's
office, Mr. Halfpenny, who had seemed somewhat mystified by the
happenings at the bank, looked inquiringly at Professor Cox-Raythwaite
and snapped out one suggestive monosyllable:

"Well?"

"Very well indeed," answered Cox-Raythwaite. "I consider we have done
good work. We have found things out. That bank manager is a pompous ass;
he's a man of asinine, or possible bovine, mind! Of course, he ought to
have revealed these things at both the inquest and the magisterial
proceedings!--they'll certainly have to be put in evidence at Barthorpe
Herapath's trial."

"What things?" demanded the old lawyer, a little testily.

"Two things--facts," replied the Professor, composedly. "First, that
Jacob Herapath drew five thousand pounds in hundred pound notes at three
o'clock on the day of his death. Second, that at some hour of that day
he drew a cheque in favour of one Luigi Dimambro, which cheque was
cashed as soon as the bank opened next morning."

"Frankly," observed Mr. Halfpenny, "frankly, candidly, Cox-Raythwaite,
I do not see what these things--facts--prove."

"Very likely," said the Professor, imperturbable as ever, "but they're
remarkably suggestive to me. They establish for one thing the fact that,
in all probability, Jacob Herapath had those notes on him when he was
murdered."

"Don't see it," retorted Mr. Halfpenny. "He got the fifty one-hundred-pound
notes from the bank at three o'clock in the afternoon. He's supposed to
have been murdered at twelve--midnight. That's nine hours. Plenty of time
in which to pay those notes away--as he most likely did."

"If you'll let your mind go back to what came out in evidence at the
inquest," said the Professor, "you'll remember that Jacob Herapath went
to the House of Commons at half-past three that day and never left it
until his coachman fetched him at a quarter-past eleven. It's not very
likely that he'd transact business at the House."

"Plenty of time between three and half-past three," objected Mr.
Hal