"Oh!" said Scarterfield. "Just so! A diplomat. And where did he
stop--here?"

"Oh, he joined them at the hotel," answered Jallanby. "He'd come there
that night I dined with them. Quiet, very gentlemanly little
chap--quite the gentleman, you know."

"And--his name?" asked Scarterfield.

But the ship-broker held up a deprecating hand.

"Don't ask me!" he said. "I heard it, but I'm not up to those Chinese
names. Still, you'd find it in the hotel register, no doubt. But
really, gentlemen, you surprise me!--I should never have thought--yet,
you never know who people are, do you? Nice, pleasant, well-behaved
fellows these were, and----"

"Ah!" said Scarterfield, with deep significance. "It's a queer world,
Mr. Jallanby. Now then, for the moment, oblige me by keeping all this
to yourself. But two questions--first, how long since is it that these
chaps sailed for Bergen; second, what is the name of this smart little
vessel?"

"They sailed precisely three weeks ago next Monday," answered the
ship-broker, "and the name of the vessel is the _Blanchflower_."

We left Mr. Jallanby then, promising to see him again, and went away.
I was wondering what the detective made out of all this, and I waited
with some curiosity for him to speak. But we had got half way up the
old High Street before Scarterfield opened his lips. And then his tone
was a blend of speculation and distrust.

"Now, I wonder where those chaps have gone?" he muttered. "Of course
they haven't gone to Norway! Of course that Chinese chap wasn't from
the Chinese Legation in London! The whole thing's a bluff. By this
time they'll have altered the name of that yawl, and gone--where? In
search of that buried stuff, to be sure!"

"If the man who called himself Belford is really Baxter, he'll know
precisely where it is," I said.

"Aye, just so, Mr. Middlebrook," assented Scarterfield. "But--there's
been time in all these years to shift that stuff from one place to
another! I haven't the slightest doubt that Belford is Baxter, and
that he and his associates bought that vessel as the easiest way of
getting the stuff from wherever it's hid--but where are we to look for
them and their craft? Have they gone north or south! It would be waste
of time and money to cable to the Norwegian ports for news of
them--they're not gone there, that I'll swear."

"Scarterfield," said I, feeling convinced on the matter. "If the man's
Baxter, and he's after that stuff, he's gone n