“That’s so. Maybe you think I’m talking through my hat, but I can deliver the goods all right, with enough over to spare for your fee.”

Sir James flushed slightly.

“There is no question of a fee, Mr. Hersheimmer. I am not a private detective.”

“Sorry. I guess I was just a mite hasty, but I’ve been feeling bad about this money question. I wanted to offer a big reward for news of Jane some days ago, but your crusted institution of Scotland Yard advised me against it. Said it was undesirable.”

“They were probably right,” said Sir James dryly.

“But it’s all OK about Julius,” put in Tuppence. “He’s not pulling your leg. He’s got simply pots of money.”

“The old man piled it up in style,” explained Julius. “Now, let’s get down to it. What’s your idea?”