e, we believe that one morning about
three weeks ago, you were in the Goose and Crane in that very room
where we saw you just now, in company with two men--smartly dressed
men, in blue serge suits and straw hats; one of them with a pointed,
golden-brown beard. Do you remember?"

I was watching the ship-broker's face while Scarterfield spoke, and I
saw that deep interest, wonder, perhaps suspicion was being aroused in
him.

"Bless me!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to say they're--wanted?"

"I mean to say that I want to get some information about them, and
very particularly," answered Scarterfield. "You do remember that
morning, then?"

"I remember a good many mornings," said Jallanby, readily enough. "I
went across there with those two several times while they were in the
town. They were doing a bit of business with me--we often dropped in
over yonder for a glass before dinner. But--I'm surprised that--well,
to put it plainly--that detectives should be inquiring after 'em!--I
am, indeed."

"Mr. Jallanby," said Scarterfield, "I'll be plain with you. This is,
so far, merely a matter of suspicion. I'm not sure of the identity of
one of these men--it's but one I want to trace at present, though I
should like to know who the other is. But--if my man is the man I
believe him to be, there's a matter of robbery, and possibly of
murder. So you see how serious it is! Now, I'll jog your memory a bit.
Do you remember that one morning, as you and these two men were
leaving the Goose and Crane, a big seafaring-looking man stepped up to
the bearded man you were with and claimed acquaintance with him as
being one Netherfield Baxter?"

Jallanby started. It was plain that he remembered.

"I do!" he exclaimed. "Well enough! I stood by. But--he said he
wasn't. There was a mistake."

"I believe there was no mistake," said Scarterfield. "I believe that
man is Netherfield Baxter, and--it's Netherfield Baxter I want. Now,
Mr. Jallanby, what do you know of those two? In confidence!"

We had all been standing until then, but at this invitation to
disclosure the ship-broker motioned us to sit down, he himself turning
the stool which the clerk had just vacated.

"This is a queer business, Mr. Scarterfield," he said. "Robbery?
Murder? Nasty things, nasty terms to apply to folk that one's done
business with. And that, of course, was all that I did with those two
men, and all I know about them. Pleasant, good-mannered, gentlemanly
chaps