Whyland hesitated for a moment. Whatever it was that Mr. Copperdock had to say to him, a visit to his house could afford him an excellent opportunity for keeping his eyes open for some clue in support of his theory. “Yes, I’ll come along straight away,” he replied. With a word to the sergeant, he left the station and walked rapidly to Praed Street.

It was about a quarter to ten when he arrived and rang the bell outside Mr. Copperdock’s shop. The tobacconist was obviously awaiting him, and the door was opened immediately. With a brief word of greeting, Mr. Copperdock led the way upstairs to the sitting-room. Then, shutting the door carefully behind him, he turned dramatically, “I’ve seen that there black sailor!” he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.