Inspector Bristol was much impressed, for into one of the rooms occupied by the Fibre Company shone that curious disc of light which first had drawn his attention to Bank Chambers. He rapped on the door, turned the handle, and entered. The sole furniture of the office in which he found himself apparently consisted of one desk and an office stool, which stool was occupied by an office boy. The windows opened on the court, and a door marked "Private" evidently communicated with an inner office whose windows likewise must open on the court. It was the ceiling of this inner office, unless the detective's calculation erred, which he was anxious to inspect.
"Yes, sir?" said the boy tentatively.
Bristol produced a card which bore the uncompromising legend: John Henry Smith.
"Take my card to Mr. Boulter, boy," he said tersely. The boy stared.
"Mr. Boulter, sir? There isn't any one of that name here."
"Oh!" said Bristol, looking around him in apparent surprise: "how long is he gone?"
"I don't know, sir. I've only been here three weeks, and Mr. Knowlson only took the offices a month ago."
"Oh," commented Bristol, "then take my card to Mr. Knowlson; he will probably be able to give me Mr. Boulter's present address."
The boy hesitated. The detective had that authoritative manner which awes the youthful mind.
"He's out, sir," he said, but without conviction.