t Mr. Vassall was not drawing more than about L500 a year
from the business profits I tried to ascertain at what rate he lived and
what were his chief vices. I found that he kept a fine house in Albert
Terrace. Now, the rents of those houses are L250 a year. Therefore
speculation, horse-racing or some sort of gambling, must help to keep up
that establishment. Speculation and most forms of gambling are
synonymous with debt and ruin. It is only a question of time. Whether
Mr. Vassall was in debt or not at the time, that I cannot say, but this
I do know, that ever since that unfortunate loss to him of about L1000
he has kept his house in nicer style than before, and he now has a good
banking account at the Lancashire and Liverpool bank, which he opened a
year after his 'heavy loss.'"

"But it must have been very difficult--" argued Polly.

"What?" he said. "To have planned out the whole thing? For carrying it
out was mere child's play. He had twenty-four hours in which to put his
plan into execution. Why, what was there to do? Firstly, to go to a
local printer in some out-of-the-way part of the town and get him to
print a few cards with the high-sounding name. That, of course, is done
'while you wait.' Beyond that there was the purchase of a good
second-hand uniform, fur coat, and a beard and a wig from a costumier's.

"No, no, the execution was not difficult; it was the planning of it all,
the daring that was so fine. Schwarz, of course, was a foreigner; he had
only been in England a little over a fortnight. Vassall's broken English
misled him; probably he did not know the junior partner very intimately.
I have no doubt that but for his uncle's absurd British prejudice and
suspicions against the Russian Prince, Schwarz would not have been so
ready to believe in the latter's roguery. As I said, it would be a great
boon if English tradesmen studied Gotha more; but it was clever, wasn't
it? I couldn't have done it much better myself."

That last sentence was so characteristic. Before Polly could think of
some plausible argument against his theory he was gone, and she was
trying vainly to find another solution to the Liverpool mystery.

CHAPTER XIV

THE EDINBURGH MYSTERY

The man in the corner had not enjoyed his lunch. Miss Polly Burton could
see that he had something on his mind, for, even before he began to talk
that morning, he was fidgeting with his bit of string, and setting all
her nerves on the jar.