we might be able to help him; but, for all we know to the contrary, he
may be an arrant scoundrel."

I recalled the strange conversation that I had overheard, and wondered
what Thorndyke would have thought of it if it had been allowable for me
to repeat it. Obviously it was not, however, and I could only give my
own impressions.

"He doesn't strike me as that," I said; "but, of course, one never
knows. Personally, he impressed me rather favourably, which is more than
the other man did."

"What other man?" asked Thorndyke.

"There was another man in the case, wasn't there? I forget his name. I
saw him at the house and didn't much like the look of him. I suspect
he's putting some sort of pressure on Bellingham."

"Berkeley knows more about this than he is telling us," said Jervis.
"Let us look up the report and see who this stranger is." He took down
from a shelf a large volume of newspaper-cuttings and laid it on the
table.

"You see," said he, as he ran his finger down the index, "Thorndyke
files all the cases that are likely to come to something, and I know he
had expectations respecting this one. I fancy he had some ghoulish hope
that the missing gentleman's head might turn up in somebody's dust-bin.
Here we are; the other man's name is Hurst. He is apparently a cousin,
and it was at his house that the missing man was last seen alive."