middle age. He
bowed, and on learning that my name was Hatteras, asked if he might be
permitted five minutes alone with me. In response, I led him to the
morning-room, and having closed the door, pointed to a seat. "What is
your business?" I inquired, when he had sat down.

"It is rather a curious affair to approach, Mr. Hatteras," the man
began. "But to commence, may I be permitted to suggest that you are
uneasy in your mind about a person who has disappeared?"

"You may certainly suggest that, if you like," I answered cautiously.

"If it were in a man's power to furnish a clue regarding that person's
whereabouts, it might be useful to you, I suppose," he continued,
craftily watching me out of the corners of his eyes.

"Very useful," I replied. "Are you in a position to do so?"

"I might possibly be able to afford you some slight assistance," he went
on. "That is, of course, provided it were made worth my while."

"What do you call 'worth your while'?"

"Well, shall we say five hundred pounds? That's not a large sum for
really trustworthy information. I ought to ask a thousand, considering
the danger I'm running in mixing myself up with the affair. Only I'm a
father myself, and that's why I do it."

"I see. Well, let me tell you, I consider five hundred too much."

"Well then I'm afraid we can't trade. I'm sorry."

"So am I. But I'm not going to buy a pig in a poke."

"Shall we say four hundred, then?"

"No. Nor three--two, or one. If your information is worth anything, I
don't mind giving you fifty pounds for it. But I won't give a halfpenny
more."

As I spoke, I rose as if to terminate the interview. Instantly my
visitor adopted a different tone.

"My fault is my generosity," he said. "It's the ruin of me. Well, you
shall have it for fifty. Give me the money, and I'll tell you."

"By no means," I answered. "I must hear the information first. Trust to
my honour. If what you tell me is worth anything, I'll give you fifty
pounds for it. Now what is it?"

"Well, sir, to begin with, you must understand that I was standing at
the corner of Pitt Street an evening or two back, when two men passed me
talking earnestly together. One of 'em was a tall strapping fellow, the
other a little chap. I never saw two eviller looking rascals in my life.
Just as they came alongside me, one says to the other, 'Don't be afraid;
I'll have the girl at the station all right at eight o'clock sharp.' The
other said something