re you?"

"My name is Paul Harley, and I am a criminal investigator."

He spoke the words deliberately, having his eyes fixed upon the other's
face; but although Bampton was palpably startled there was no trace of
fear in his straightforward glance. He took a cigarette from the case,
and:

"Thanks, Mr. Harley," he said. "I cannot imagine what business has
brought you here."

"I have come to ask you two questions," was the reply. "Number one: Who
paid you to smash Major Ragstaff's white hat? Number two: How much did
he pay you?"

To these questions I listened in amazement, and my amazement was
evidently shared by Bampton. He had been in the act of lighting his
cigarette, but he allowed the match to burn down nearly to his fingers
and then dropped it with a muttered exclamation in the fire. Finally:

"I don't know how you found out," he said, "but you evidently know
the truth. Provided you assure me that you are not out to make a
silly-season newspaper story, I'll tell you all I know."

Harley laid his card on the table, and:

"Unless the ends of justice demand it," he said, "I give you my word
that anything you care to say will go no further. You may speak freely
before my friend, Mr. Knox. Simply tell me in as few words as possible
what led you to court arrest in that manner."

"Right," replied Bampton, "I will." He half closed his eyes,
reflectively. "I was having tea in the Lyons' cafe, to which I always
go, last Monday afternoon about four o'clock, when a man sat down facing
me and got into conversation."

"Describe him!"

"He was a man rather above medium height. I should say about my own
build; dark, going gray. He had a neat moustache and a short beard, and
the look of a man who had travelled a lot. His skin was very tanned,
almost as deeply as yours, Mr. Harley. Not at all the sort of chap
that goes in there as a rule. After a while he made an extraordinary
proposal. At first I thought he was joking, then when I grasped the idea
that he was serious I concluded he was mad. He asked me how much a year
I earned, and I told him Peters and Peters paid me 150 pounds. He said:
'I'll give you a year's salary to knock a man's hat off!'"

As Bampton spoke the words he glanced at us with twinkling eyes, but
although for my own part I was merely amused, Harley's expression had
grown very stern.

"Of course, I laughed," continued Bampton, "but when the man drew out
a fat wallet and counted ten five-pound note