WALLET

All that remained of the once stately, if restricted, premises of Messrs.
Dashwood and Solomon was a gaunt-looking front wall, blackened by the
fire. Tarling interviewed the Chief of the Fire Brigade.

"It'll be days before we can get inside," said that worthy, "and I very
much doubt if there's anything left intact. The whole of the building has
been burnt out--you can see for yourself the roof has gone in--and
there's very little chance of recovering anything of an inflammable
nature unless it happens to be in a safe."

Tarling caught sight of the brusque Sir Felix Solomon gazing, without any
visible evidence of distress, upon the wreckage of his office.

"We are covered by insurance," said Sir Felix philosophically, "and there
is nothing of any great importance, except, of course, those documents
and books from Lyne's Store."

"They weren't in the fire-proof vault?" asked Tarling, and Sir Felix shook
his head.

"No," he said, "they were in a strong-room; and curiously enough, it was
in that strong room where the fire originated. The room itself was not
fire-proof, and it would have been precious little use if it had been, as
the fire started inside. The first news we received was when a clerk,
going down to the basement, saw flames leaping out between the steel bars
which constitute the door of No. 4 vault."

Tarling nodded.

"I need not ask you whether the books which Mr. Milburgh brought this
morning had been placed in that safe, Sir Felix," he said, and the knight
looked surprised.

"Of course not. They were placed there whilst you were in the office," he
said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because in my judgment those books were not books at all in the usually
understood sense. Unless I am at fault, the parcel contained three big
ledgers glued together, the contents being hollowed out and that hollow
filled with thermite, a clockwork detonator, or the necessary electric
apparatus to start a spark at a given moment."

The accountant stared at him.

"You're joking," he said, but Tarling shook his head.

"I was never more serious in my life."

"But who would commit such an infernal act as that? Why, one of my clerks
was nearly burnt to death!"

"The man who would commit such an infernal act as that," repeated Tarling
slowly, "is the man who has every reason for wishing to avoid an
examination of Lyne's accounts."

"You don't mean----?"

"I'll mention no names for the moment, and if inadvertently