I found 'em--why, Lord bless me, I dined with 'em one night at
their hotel!"

"Which hotel?" asked Scarterfield.

"Station Hotel," replied Jallanby. "They were there for ten days or
so, while they did their business with me. I never saw aught wrong
about 'em either--seemed to be what they represented themselves to be.
Certainly they'd plenty of money--for what they wanted here in Hull,
anyway. But of course, that's neither here nor there."

"What names did you know them under?" inquired Scarterfield. "And
where did they profess to come from?"

"Well, the man with the brownish beard called himself Mr. Norman
Belford," answered Jallanby. "I gathered he was from London. The other
man was a Frenchman--some French lord or other, from his name, but I
forget it. Mr. Belford always called him Vicomte--which I took to be
French for our Viscount."

Scarterfield turned and looked at me. And I, too, looked at him. We
were thinking of the same thing--old Cazalette's find on the bush in
the scrub near the beach at Ravensdene Court. And I could not repress
an exclamation.

"The handkerchief!"

Scarterfield coughed. A dry, significant cough--it meant a great deal.

"Aye!" he said. "Just so--the handkerchief! Um!" He turned to the
ship-broker. "Mr. Jallanby," he continued, "what did these two want of
you? What was their business here in Hull?"

"I can tell you that in a very few words," answered Jallanby. "Simple
enough and straight enough, on the surface. So far as I was concerned,
anyhow. They came in here one morning, told me they were staying at
the Station Hotel, and said that they wanted to buy a small craft of
some sort that a small crew could run across the North Sea to the
Norwegian fiords--the sort of thing you can manage with three or four,
you know. They said they were both amateur yachtsmen, and, of course,
I very soon found out that they knew what they were talking about--in
fact, between you and me, I should have said that they were as
experienced in sea-craft as any man could be!--I soon detected that."

"Aye!" said Scarterfield, with a nod at me. "I dare say you would."

"Well, it so happened that I'd just the very thing they seemed to
want," continued the ship-broker. "A vessel that had recently been
handed over to me for disposal, and then lying in the Victoria Dock,
just at the back here, beyond the old harbour: just the sort of craft
that they could sail themselves, with say a man, or a boy or two--I