help you in every way. That goes without saying. But I can't help
thinking that this news from the War Office with regard to English gold
in Belgium has something to do with these bank robberies, my friend. The
two things seem to hang together in my mind, and a dollar to a ducat that
in the long run they identify themselves thus.... Hello! Who's that?" as
a tap sounded at the door. "I'll be off if you're expecting visitors. I
want to look into this thing a little closer. Some time or other the
thieves are bound to leave a clue behind. Success breeds carelessness,
you know, and if they think that Scotland Yard is giving the business
up as a bad job, they won't be so deuced particular as to clearing up
afterward. We'll unravel the thing between us, never fear."

"I wish I could think so, old chap!" said Mr. Narkom, a trifle gloomily,
as he called "Come in!" The door opened to admit Petrie, very straight
and business-like. "But you're no end of a help. It does me good just to
see you. What is it, Petrie?"

"A gentleman to see you, sir," responded the constable in crisp tones. "A
gentleman by name of Merriton, Sir Nigel Merriton he said his name was.
Bit of a toff I should say by the look of 'im. And wants to see you
partikler. He mentioned Mr. Cleek's name, sir, but I told 'im he wasn't
in at the moment. Shall I show him up?"

"Quite right, Petrie," laughed Cleek, in recognition of this act of one
of the Yard's subordinates; for everyone was to do everything in his
power to shield Cleek's identity. "I'll stay if you don't mind, Mr.
Narkom. I happen to know something of this Merriton. A fine upstanding
young man, who, once upon a time was very great friends with Miss
Lorne. That was in the old Hawksley days. Chap's lately come into his
inheritance, I believe. Uncle disappeared some five or six years ago