"No!" said Lord Morradale. "Nothing's happened so far. I called in at the Imperial Safe Deposit as I came here; they had neither seen Madame Listorelle nor had any communication from her to-day. And now the place is closed for the night."
"Did you warn them, then?" inquired Matherfield.
"I didn't. I thought it best to see you first," replied Lord Morradale. "The warning and the rest of it will come best from you."
"Very good, my lord. Much obliged to your lordship for looking in," said Matherfield. "We'll keep you posted up in anything that happens—at Hill Street. Now," he continued, when Lord Morradale had left the office, "we'll get along to Westminster, Mr. Hetherwick, to the 'Green Archer' and its landlord, Killiner."
The "Green Archer" proved to be a respectable tavern which boasted a saloon bar. Behind the glass screens of this they found a middle-aged, sharp-eyed man, who at the sight of his visitors immediately opened the door of a parlour in the rear and ushered them into privacy. He pointed silently to a copy of the bill asking for news of Ambrose.
"Aye!" said Matherfield. "Just so. I had your message. You think you know this man?"
"From this description of him in that bill, yes," replied the landlord. "I think he's a man—gentleman, by all appearances—who used to come into my saloon bar pretty regularly during this last six months. Since the end of last summer, I should say, up to about three weeks or so ago."
"Not since then, eh?" asked Matherfield. "Three weeks?"
"About that. No—he hasn't been in for quite that. But up to then he'd been in, well, four or five days a week. Handsome, fine man—in fact, you've described him exactly there. I never knew who he was—used to pass the time o' day with him, you know, but that was all. He always came in about the same time—one to one-thirty. He'd have sometimes a glass of bitter ale and a sandwich or two; sometimes a whisky and soda and two or three biscuits. Stood and had his snack and went away. Never talked much. I took him for some gentleman that had business hereabouts, and just wanted a bite and a sup in the middle of the day, and turned in here for it. But I don't know what business he could be concerned in round here. He hadn't the tradesman's look on him, you understand. I should have said he was a professional man of some sort. Always very well dressed, you know—smart. However, I did notice one peculiar thing about him."
"What now?" asked Matherfield. "It all helps!"