n the interval the rogue learnt to imitate you, and his
position was therefore secure, as I presume that nobody in the office
had ever set eyes upon you?"

"Not a soul," groaned Hall Pycroft.

"Very good. Of course, it was of the utmost importance to prevent you
from thinking better of it, and also to keep you from coming into
contact with anyone who might tell you that your double was at work in
Mawson's office. Therefore they gave you a handsome advance on your
salary, and ran you off to the Midlands, where they gave you enough work
to do to prevent your going to London, where you might have burst their
little game up. That is all plain enough."

"But why should this man pretend to be his own brother?"

"Well, that is pretty clear also. There are evidently only two of them
in it. The other is personating you at the office. This one acted as
your engager, and then found that he could not find you an employer
without admitting a third person into his plot. That he was most
unwilling to do. He changed his appearance as far as he could, and
trusted that the likeness, which you could not fail to observe, would be
put down to a family resemblance. But for the happy chance of the gold
stuffing your suspicions would probably have never been aroused."

Hall Pycroft shook his clenched hands in the air. "Good Lord!" he cried.
"While I have been fooled in this way, what has this other Hall Pycroft
been doing at Mawson's? What should we do, Mr. Holmes? Tell me what to
do!"

"We must wire to Mawson's."

"They shut at twelve on Saturdays."

"Never mind; there may be some doorkeeper or attendant----"

"Ah, yes; they keep a permanent guard there on account of the value of
the securities that they hold. I remember hearing it talked of in the
City."

[Illustration: "PYCROFT SHOOK HIS CLENCHED HANDS IN THE AIR."]

"Very good, we shall wire to him, and see if all is well, and if a clerk
of your name is working there. That is clear enough, but what is not so
clear is why at sight of us one of the rogues should instantly walk out
of the room and hang himself."

"The paper!" croaked a voice behind us. The man was sitting up, blanched
and ghastly, with returning reason in his eyes, and hands which rubbed
nervously at the broad red band which still encircled his throat.

"The paper! Of course!" yelled Holmes, in a paroxysm of excitement.
"Idiot that I was! I thought so much of our visit that the paper never
entered my head for