ters by sight, as it were. And,
finally, he and Furneaux had arranged a plan of campaign.

Furneaux refreshed a jaded intellect by an evening at the opera. Next
morning, at eleven o'clock, he was inquiring for Mr. Ingerman at an
office in a certain alley off Cornhill.

A smart youth interposed a printed formula between the visitor and a door
marked "Private." Furneaux wrote his name, and put "Steynholme" in the
space reserved for "business." He was admitted at once. Mr. Ingerman,
apparently, was immersed in a pile of letters, but he swept them all
aside, and greeted the caller affably.

"Glad to see you, Mr. Furneaux," he said. "I missed you on the train
yesterday. Did you--"

"Nice quiet place you've got here, Mr. Ingerman," interrupted the
detective.

"Yes. But, as I was about to--"

"Artistically furnished, too," went on Furneaux dreamily. "Oak,
self-toned carpets and rugs, restful decorations. Those etchings, also,
show taste in the selection. 'The Embankment--by Night.' Fitting sequel
to 'The City--by Day.' I'm a child in such matters, but, 'pon my honor,
if tempted to pour out my hard-earned savings into the lap of a City
magnate, I would disgorge here more readily than in some saloon-bar of
finance, where the new mahogany glistens, and the typewriters click like
machine-guns."

Ingerman was nettled. He glanced at his correspondence.

"You have a somewhat far-fetched notion of my position," he said, with a
staccato quality in his velvet voice. "I am not a magnate, and I toil
here to make, not to lose, money for my clients."

"A noble ideal. Forgive me if my rhapsody took the wrong line."

"And I'm sure you will forgive me if I now put the question which leads
to the probable cause of your visit. Did you travel by the two o'clock
train yesterday?"

"Yes. I avoided you purposely."

"May I ask, why?"

"My mind was weary. I wanted my wits about me when I tackled you."

Ingerman smiled, and leaned back, resting both elbows on the arms of the
chair, and bringing the tips of his fingers together.

"Proceed," he said.

"You prefer that I should drag out a statement piecemeal rather than
receive it _en bloc_?"

"Put it that way, if you like."

"I shall even enjoy it. To clear the ground, are you the Isidor G.
Ingerman who exploited the A1 Mine in Abyssinia?"

Ingerman's finger-tips whitened under a sudden pressure, but his voice
remained calm.

"An unfortunate episode," he said.

"And the Aegea