"A Large Sum of Money has been Bequeathed to —— Morgan, who is supposed to have been residing in Liverpool, where he was last seen about a year ago. Full particulars will be given to him upon application to Paul Godfrey, 719 Buckingham Palace Road."
To reduce the chances of receiving letters from every Morgan in the kingdom, I wrote to Mrs. Barlow, requesting her to give me the date of her son's birth, his age, and whether he had any marks on his person by which he could be identified. Though it is running ahead of my narrative, I may state here that Mrs. Barlow supplied me with the date of her son's birth and his age (which particulars I inserted in the advertisement), and informed me that there were two marks on him which would render identification easy—a large mole on his left side, a little above the hip, and a peculiar formation in the toe next to the big toe on his right foot. It was bent completely under, she said, and presented the appearance of having been cut clean off at the joint.
I went out at eleven o'clock that night to post my letters to Mrs. Barlow, and was returning home, deep in thought, when a hand was laid on my shoulder.
"Good evening, Godfrey."
The voice was Wheeler's, like myself a private detective, with whom I had worked on two or three cases. There was a talk of our going into partnership, but it had not yet come to a head. There are few smarter men than Wheeler.
"Good evening," I said, and immediately began to consider whether he could be of use to me. "Anything stirring?"
"Well," he answered, "I was coming to see you."
"What about?"
Instead of giving me a direct answer, he began to laugh, and said, "You were in Soho this evening."
"Hallo," said I, interested immediately, "there's something in the wind. Did you see me there?"