d think for
himself and decide for himself at any moment, but he knew the worth and
value of putting two heads together, especially at a juncture like this.
And so, the afternoon being still young, he went off to his warehouse in
Gresham Street, closeted himself with Ambler Appleyard, and having
pledged him to secrecy, told him all that had happened since the
previous morning.

Ambler Appleyard listened in silence. It was only two or three hours
since he had listened to another story--the report of the two Gaffneys,
and Allerdyke, all unaware of that business, had come upon him while
he was still thinking it over. And while Appleyard gave full attention
to all that his employer said, he was also thinking of what he himself
could tell. By the time that Allerdyke had finished he, too, had
decided to speak.

"So there it is, my lad!" exclaimed Allerdyke, throwing out his hands
with an eloquent gesture as he made an end of his story. "I hope I've put
it clearly to you. It's just as that Chap Chettle said--the whole secret
is in that photograph! And isn't it plain?--that photograph must have
been transferred somehow by this Mrs. Marlow to this Lydenberg. How? Why?
When we can answer those questions--"

He paused at that, and, looking fixedly at his manager, shook his head
half-threateningly.

"I'll tell you what it is, Ambler," he went on, after a moment's silence.
"I've got a good, strong mind to go straight to the police authorities,
tell 'em what I know, insist on 'em fetching Chettle up from Hull at
once, and having that woman arrested. Why not?"

"No!" said Appleyard firmly. "Not yet. Too soon, Mr. Allerdyke--wait a
bit. And now listen to me--I've something to tell you. I've been busy
while you've been away--in this affair. Bit of detective work. I'll tell
you all about it--all! You remember that day I went to lunch with you at
the City Carlton, and you pointed out this Mrs. Marlow to me, going into
Rothschild's? Yes, well--I recognized her."

"You did!" exclaimed Allerdyke. "Nay!"

"I recognized her," repeated Appleyard. "I said naught to you at the
time, but I knew her well enough. As a matter of fact, I've known her for
two years. She lives at the same boarding-house, the Pompadour Private
Hotel, in Bayswater, that I live in. I see her--have been seeing her for
two years--every day, morning and night. But I know her as Miss Slade."

"Miss?" ejaculated Allerdyke.

"Miss--Miss Slade," answered Appleyard. He