station and saw the sergeant on duty.

"Yes, sir," said the man in answer to his inquiry. "I know the
gentleman. He is the managing director of Ackroyd and Holt's distillery,
about half-way between Ferriby and Hassle."

"And what is he like in appearance?" Willis continued, concealing the
interest this statement had aroused.

"A big man, sir," the sergeant answered. "Tall, and broad too. Clean
shaven, with heavy features, very determined looking."

Willis had food for thought as he returned to his hotel. Merriman had
been thrilled when he learned of the proximity of the distillery to the
syndicate's depot, seeing therein an argument in favor of the brandy
smuggling theory. This new discovery led Willis at first to take
the same view, but the considerations which Hilliard had pointed out
occurred to him also, and though he felt a little puzzled, he was
inclined to dismiss the matter as a coincidence.

Though after his recent experience he was even more averse to jumping to
conclusions than formerly, Willis could not but believe that he was at
last on a hopeful scent. At all events his first duty was clear. He must
find this Archibald Charles Archer, and obtain prints of his fingers.

Next morning found him again at Ferriby, once more looking southwards
from the concealment of a cluster of bushes. But this time the object
of his attention was no longer the syndicate's depot. Instead he focused
his powerful glasses on the office of the distillery.

About nine-thirty a tall, stoutly built man strode up to the building
and entered. His dress indicated that he was of the employer class,
and from the way in which a couple of workmen touched their caps as he
passed, Willis had no doubt he was the managing director.

For some three hours the inspector lay hidden, then he suddenly observed
the tall man emerge from the building and walk rapidly in the direction
of Ferriby. Immediately the inspector crept down the hedge nearer to the
road, so as to see his quarry pass at close quarters.

It happened that as the man came abreast of Willis, a small two-seater
motor-car coming from the direction of Ferriby also reached the same
spot. But instead of passing, it slowed down and its occupant hailed the
tall man.

"Hallo, Archer," he shouted. "Can I give you a lift?"

"Thanks," the big man answered. "It would be a kindness. I have
unexpectedly to go into Hull, and my own car is out of order."

"Run you in in quarter of an ho