le to see. A big, roomy desk, middle-Victorian in style, some heavy
middle-Victorian chairs, a well-worn carpet and rug, a book-case filled
with peerages, baronetages, county directories, Army lists, Navy lists,
and other similar volumes of reference to high life, a map or two on the
walls, a heavy safe in a corner--these things were all there was to look
at. Except one thing--which Starmidge was quick to see. Over the
mantelpiece, with an almanac on one side of it, and an interest-table on
the other, hung a somewhat faded photograph of Gabriel Chestermarke.

The younger detective tapped his companion's arm and silently indicated
this grim counterfeit of the man in whose doings they were so keenly
interested just then.

"That's--the man!" he whispered. "Chestermarke! Gabriel!"

Easleby opened mouth and eyes and stared with eager interest.

"Egad!" he muttered. "That's lucky! Makes it all the easier. I'll lay
you anything you like, my lad, this manager doesn't know anything--not a
thing!--about the double identity business. We shall soon find
out--leave it to me--at first, anyway. A few plain questions----"

Mr. Stipp came bustling in, closing the door behind him. He took off
overcoat and hat, ran his fingers through his light hair, and, seating
himself, glanced smilingly at his visitors.

"Well, gentlemen!" he demanded. "What can I do for you now? Want to make
some inquiries?"

"Just a few small inquiries, sir," replied Easleby. "I haven't the
pleasure of knowing your name--Mr.----?"

"Stipp's my name, sir," answered the manager promptly. "Stipp--James
Stipp."

"Thank you, sir," said Easleby, with great politeness. "Well, Mr. Stipp,
you see from our cards who we are. We've called on you--as representing
Mr. Godwin Markham--on behalf--informally, Mr. Stipp--of Mrs. Lester, of
Lowdale Court, Chesham."

Mr. Stipp's face showed a little surprise at this announcement, and he
glanced from one man to the other as if he were puzzled.

"Oh!" he said. "Dear me! Why--what has Mrs. Lester called you in for?"

Easleby, who had brought another marked newspaper with him, laid it on
the manager's desk.

"You've no doubt read of this Scarnham affair, Mr. Stipp?" he asked,
pointing to his own blue pencillings. "Most people have, I think. Or
perhaps it's escaped your notice."

"Hardly could!" answered Mr. Stipp, with a friendly smile. "Yes--I've
read it. Most extraordinary! One of the most puzzling cases I ever did
read.