Starmidge, lingering a moment on the steps of the bank to consider whether he would go straight to Chesham or repair to headquarters for a consultation with his superior, was suddenly joined by the manager who had just given him his information.

"You are going down to Lowdale Court?" asked the manager.

"During the morning—yes," answered Starmidge.

"If it will be any help to you," said the manager, "I'll ring up Mrs. Lester on the telephone, and let her know you're coming. She's rather a nervous woman and it will pave the way for you if I give you a sort of introduction. Besides—" here he paused, and looked at the detective with an inquiring air—"don't you think Mrs. Lester had better be warned—at once—not to speak of this matter until she's seen you?"

"You think she may be approached?" asked Starmidge.

The manager wagged his head and smiled knowingly.

"I think there's something so very queer about this affair that Mrs. Lester ought to be seen at once," he said.

"She shall be!" answered Starmidge. "Tell her I'll be down there within two hours—I'll motor there. Thank you for your suggestion. Now I'll just run to headquarters and then be straight off."

He hailed a passing taxi-cab and drove to New Scotland Yard, where he was presently closeted with a high personage in deep and serious consultation, the result of which was that by twelve o'clock, Starmidge and a fellow-officer, one Easleby, in whom he had great confidence, were spinning away towards the beech-clad hills of Buckinghamshire, and discussing the features and probabilities of the queer business which took them there. Before two, they were in the pleasant valley which lies between Chenies and Chesham and pulling up at the door of a fine old Jacobean house, which, set in the midst of delightful lawns and gardens, looked down on the windings of the river Chess. And practical as both men were, and well experienced in their profession, it struck both as strange that they should come to such a quiet and innocent-looking place to seek some explanation of a mystery which had surely some connection with crime.

The two detectives were immediately shown into a morning room in which sat a little, middle-aged lady in a widow's cap and weeds, who looked at her visitors half-timidly, half-welcomingly. She sat by a small table on which lay a heap of newspapers, and Starmidge's sharp eyes saw at once that she had been reading the published details of the Scarnham affair.

"You have no doubt been informed by your bankers that we were coming, ma'am?" began Starmidge, when he and Easleby had seated themselves near Mrs. Lester. "The manager there was good enough to say he'd telephone you."

Mrs. Lester, who had been curiously inspecting her callers and appeared somewhat relieved to find that they were quite ordinary-looking beings, entirely unlike her own preconceived notions of detectives, bowed her head.

"Yes," she answered, "my bankers telephoned that an officer from Scotland Yard would call on me this morning, and that I was to speak freely to him, and in confidence, but—I really don't quite know what it is that I'm to talk to you about, though I suppose I can guess."

"This, ma'am," answered Starmidge, bending towards the pile of newspapers and tapping a staring head-line with his finger. "I see you've been reading it up. I have been in charge of this affair since Monday last, and I came up to town last night about it—specially. You will have read in this morning's paper that the body of Mr. Frederick Hollis was found at Scarnham yesterday?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Lester, with a sigh. "I have read of that. Of course, I knew Mr. Hollis—he was an old friend of my husband. I saw him last week. But—what took Mr. Hollis down to Scarnham? I have been in the habit of seeing Mr. Hollis constantly—regularly—and I never even heard him mention Scarnham, nor any person living at Scarnham. There are many persons mentioned in these newspaper accounts," continued Mrs. Lester, "in connection with this affair whose names I never heard before—yet they are mentioned as if Mr. Hollis had something to do with them. Why did he go there?"

"That, ma'am, is precisely what we want to find out from you!" replied Starmidge, with a side glance at his fellow-detective. "It's just what we've come for!"

He was watching Mrs. Lester very closely as he spoke, and he saw that up to that moment she had certainly no explanation in her own mind as to the reason of this police visit.

"But what can I tell you?" she exclaimed. "As I have said, I don't know why Frederick Hollis went to Scarnham! He never mentioned Scarnham to me when he was here last week."

"Let me tell you something that is not in the papers—yet—ma'am," said Starmidge. "I think it will explain matters to you. When we examined Mr. Hollis's effects at Scarnham, yesterday morning, after the finding of his body, we found in his letter-case a cheque for ten thousand pounds——"

Starmidge stopped suddenly. Mrs. Lester had started, and her pale face had grown paler. Her eyes dilated as she looked at the two men.

"A cheque!" she exclaimed. "For—ten thousand pounds. On—him? And—whose cheque?"

"It was a curious cheque, ma'am," replied Starmidge. "It was drawn on Mr. Hollis's bankers, Vanderkiste, Mullineau & Company, of Lombard Street. It was dated. It was filled in for ten thousand pounds—in words and in figures. But it was not signed—and it was not made out to any body. No name of payee, you understand, ma'am, no name of payer. But—it is very evident Mr. Hollis made out that cheque intending to pay it to—somebody. What we want to know is—who is—or was, that somebody? I came up to town to try to find that out! I went to Mr. Hollis's bankers this morning. They told me that last week Mr. Hollis paid into his account there a cheque for ten thousand pounds, drawn by Helen Lester, and told their manager that he should be drawing a cheque for his own against it in a day or two. I then went to your bank, ma'am, saw your bankers, and got your address. Now, Mrs. Lester, there's no doubt whatever that the cheque which we found on Mr. Hollis is the cheque he spoke of to Vanderkiste's manager. And we want you, if you please, to tell us two things: For what purpose did you give Mr. Hollis ten thousand pounds?—To whom was he to pay it? Tell us, ma'am—and we shall have gone a long way to clearing this affair! And—it's more serious than you'd think."

Mrs. Lester, who had listened to Starmidge with absorbed and almost frightened attention, looked anxiously at both men before she replied to the detective's direct inquiry.

"You will respect my confidence, of course?" she asked at last. "Whatever I say to you will be in strict confidence?"

"Whatever you tell us, Mrs. Lester," answered Starmidge, "we shall have to report to our superiors at the Criminal Investigation Department. You may rely on their discretion—fully. But if there is any secret in this, ma'am, it will all have to come out, now that it's an affair of police investigation. Far better tell us here and now!"

"There'll be no publication of anything without Mrs. Lester's knowledge and consent," remarked Easleby, who guessed at the reason of the lady's diffidence. "This is a private matter, so far. All that she can tell us will be for police information—only."

"I shall have to mention the affairs of—some other person," said Mrs. Lester. "But—I suppose it's absolutely necessary? Now that you know what you do, for instance, I suppose I could be made to give evidence, eh!"

"I'm afraid you're quite right, ma'am," admitted Starmidge. "The mystery of Mr. Hollis's death will certainly have to be cleared up. Now that this cheque affair is out, you could be called as a witness at the inquest. Better tell us, ma'am—and leave things to us."

Mrs. Lester, after a moment's reflection, looked steadily at her visitors. "Very well!" she answered, "I suppose I had better. Indeed, I have been feeling, ever since my bankers rang me up this morning, that I should have to tell you—though I still can't see how anything that I can tell you has to do—that is, precisely—with Mr. Hollis's visit to Scarnham. Yet—it may—perhaps must have. The fact is, I recently called in Mr. Hollis, as an old friend, to give me some advice. I must tell you that my husband died last year—now about eight months ago. We have an only son—who is an officer in the Army."

"You had better give us his name—and regiment, ma'am," suggested Starmidge.

Mrs. Lester hesitated a little.

"Very well," she said at last. "He is Lieutenant Guy Lester, of the 55th Lancers. Stationed where? At present at Maychester. Now I have got to tell you what is both painful and unpleasant for me to tell. My husband, though a very kind father, was a very strict one. When our son went into the Army, his father made him a certain yearly allowance which he himself considered a very handsome one. But my husband," continued Mrs. Lester, with a faint smile, "had been engaged in commercial pursuits all his life, until a year or two before his death, and he did not know that the expenses, and the—well, the style of living in a crack cavalry regiment are—what they are. More than once Guy asked his father to increase his allowance—considerably. His father always refused—he was a strict and, in some ways, a very hard man about money. And so—my son had recourse to a money-lender."

Starmidge, who was sitting close by his fellow-detective, pressed his elbow against Easleby's sleeve—at last they were getting at something.

"Just so, ma'am," he said encouragingly. "Nothing remarkable in all this so far—quite an everyday matter, I assure you! Nothing for you to distress yourself about, either—all that can be kept quiet."

"Well," continued Mrs. Lester, "my son borrowed money from a money-lender in London, expecting, of course, to pay it back on his father's death. I must tell you that my husband married very late in life—he was quite thirty years my senior. No doubt this money-lender acquainted himself with Mr. Lester's age—and state of health."

"He would, ma'am, he would!" agreed Starmidge.

"He'd take particular good care of that, ma'am," added Easleby. "They always do—in such cases."

"Yes," said Mrs. Lester, "but, you see, when my husband died, he did not leave Guy anything at all! He left everything to me. So Guy had nothing to pay the money-lender with. Then, of course, the money-lender began to press him, and in the end Guy was obliged to come and tell me all about it. That was only a few weeks ago. And it was very bad news, because the man claimed much—very much—more money than he had ever advanced. His demands were outrageous!"

Starmidge gave Mrs. Lester a keen glance, and realized an idea of her innocence in financial matters.

"Ah!" he observed, "they are very grasping, ma'am, some of these money-lenders! How much was this particular one asking of your son, now?"

"He demanded between fourteen and fifteen thousand pounds," replied Mrs. Lester. "An abominable demand!—for my son assured me that at the very outside he had not had more than seven or eight thousand."

"And—what happened, ma'am?" inquired Starmidge sympathetically. "The man pestered you, of course!"

"Guy made him one or two offers," answered Mrs. Lester. "Of course I would have made them good—to get rid of the affair. It was no use—he had papers and things signed by Guy—who had borrowed all the money since he came of age—and he refused to abate a penny. The last time that Guy called on him, he told him flatly that he would have his fifteen thousand to the last shilling. It was, of course, extortion!"

Starmidge and Easleby exchanged looks. Both felt that they were on the very edge of a discovery.

"To be sure, ma'am," asserted Starmidge. "Absolute extortion! And—what is the name of the money-lending gentleman?"

"His name," replied Mrs. Lester, "is Godwin Markham."

"Did you ever see him, ma'am?" asked Starmidge.

Mrs. Lester looked her astonishment.

"I?" she exclaimed. "No—never!"

"Did your son ever describe him to you?—his personal appearance, I mean," inquired Starmidge.

Mrs. Lester shook her head.

"No!" she replied. "Indeed, I have heard my son say that he never saw Markham himself but once. He did his—business, I suppose you would call it—with the manager—who always said—when this recent pressing began—that he was powerless—he could only do what Mr. Markham bade him do."

"Precisely!" said Starmidge. "There generally is a manager whose chief business is to say that sort of thing, ma'am. Dear me!—and where, ma'am, is this Mr. Godwin Markham's office? You know that, no doubt?"

"Oh, yes—it is in Conduit Street—off New Bond Street," replied Mrs. Lester.

"Of course you never went there?" asked Starmidge. "No, of course not. All was done through your son, until you called in Mr. Hollis. Now, when did you call in Mr. Hollis, Mrs. Lester?—the date's important."

"About a fortnight ago," replied Mrs. Lester—"I sent for him—I told him all about it—I asked his advice. At his suggestion I gave him a cheque for ten thousand pounds. He said he would make an endeavour to settle the whole thing for that amount, and have everything cleared up. He took the cheque away with him."

"Between then—that day when he was here and you gave him the cheque," asked Starmidge, "and last Saturday, when we know Mr. Hollis went to Scarnham, did you hear of or from Mr. Hollis at all?"

"Only in this way," replied Mrs. Lester. "When he left me, he said that before approaching Markham, as intermediary, he should like to see Guy, and hear what his account of the transactions was, and that he would ask my son to come up to town from Maychester and meet him. I heard from Guy at the end of last week—last Saturday morning, as a matter of fact—that he had been to town, that he had lunched with Mr. Hollis at Mr. Hollis's club, and that after discussing the whole affair, Mr. Hollis said that he would make a determined effort to settle the matter at once. And after that," concluded Mrs. Lester, "I heard no more or anything until I read of this Scarnham affair in the newspapers."

"And now that you have read it, ma'am, and have heard what I have to tell," said Starmidge, "do you connect it in any way with Mr. Guy Lester's affair?"

Mrs. Lester looked puzzled. She considered the detective's proposition in silence for a time.

"No!" she answered at last. "Really, I don't!"

Starmidge got up, and Easleby followed his lead.

"Well, ma'am," said Starmidge, "there is a connection, without doubt, and I think that within a very short time we shall have discovered what it is. What you have told us has been of great assistance—the very greatest assistance. And you can make your mind easy for the present—I don't see any reason for any unpleasant publicity just now—in fact, I think you'll find there won't be any. The unpleasant publicity, ma'am," concluded Starmidge, with an almost imperceptible wink at Easleby, "will be for—some other people."

The two detectives bowed themselves out, re-entered their car, and were driven on to Chesham. Neither had touched food since breakfast-time and each was hungry. They discovered an old-fashioned hotel in the main street of the little town, and were presently confronting a round of cold beef, a cold ham, and two foaming tankards, in the snug parlour which they had to themselves.

"One result of our profession, young Starmidge," observed the middle-aged Easleby, bending towards his companion over a well-filled plate, "is that it makes a man indulge in a tremendous lot of what you might call intellectual speculation!"

"What are you speculating about?" asked Starmidge.

"This—on information received," replied Easleby, as he lifted his tankard. "There are the names of three Scarnham gentlemen before me—Gabriel Chestermarke, Joseph Chestermarke, John Horbury. Now, then—which of the three sports the other name of Godwin Markham?"