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no use. The second was for Miss Chelandry, 87, Ebury Street. That was out of count, too. But the third was what I wanted. It was just the address, 56, Little Smith Street, SW1. As soon as I saw it, I knew Iā€™d got on the right track.ā€

ā€œGo on!ā€ said Hetherwick.

ā€œThe stationer, Calkin, didnā€™t know the name of the man who ordered this paper and gave this address,ā€ continued Mapperley. ā€œHe knew him well enough as a customer, though, and described him. Baseverie, without a doubt! Calkin says that Baseverie, during the last few months, bought various items of stationery from himā ā€”notebooks, duplicating paper, office requisites, and so on. He never knew his name, but as he always carried away his own purchases, and paid spot cash for them, that didnā€™t matter. Calkin supplied him with ten quires of this paper and envelopes to match, a couple of months ago. Soā ā€”there you are! And there I wasā ā€”sure at last that Baseverieā€™s mysterious hiding-place was 56, Little Smith Street!ā€

ā€œGoodā ā€”good!ā€ said Hetherwick. ā€œWhat next?ā€

ā€œWell, I thought we could do with a bit of help,ā€ replied Mapperley, smiling. ā€œSo I left Calkinā ā€”bound to secrecy, of courseā ā€”and telephoned to Issy Goldmark. Issy is just the sort of chap for games of this sort! Issy cameā ā€”and he and I took a stroll round. Do you know Little Smith Street?ā€

ā€œNot I!ā€ answered Hetherwick. ā€œNever heard of it!ā€

ā€œOh, well, but it is a street,ā€ said Mapperley. ā€œIt lies between Great Smith Street and Tufton Street, back oā€™ the Church Houseā ā€”not so far from the Abbey. Bit slummy down those quarters, round aboutā ā€”sort of district thatā€™s seen decidedly better days. Still, thereā€™s good, solid houses here and thereā ā€”56 is one of ā€™em. From outside, it looks the sort of house you canā€™t get intoā ā€”dark, silent, heavily-curtained windowsā ā€”sort of place in which you could murder anybody on the quiet. Very substantial front door, painted dark green, with an old-fashioned brass knockerā ā€”that sort of house. We took a good look at it.ā€

ā€œSee anything?ā€ asked Hetherwick.

ā€œNothing but what Iā€™ve told youā ā€”lifeless sort oā€™ place,ā€ answered Mapperley. ā€œHowever, having once seen it, I wasnā€™t going to leave it unwatched, so I posted Issy there, in the window of a convenient public-house, and came away to telegraph to you. And there Issy isā ā€”either in his pub, or loafing round. And now we ought to go and hear if heā€™s anything to report. And if he hasnā€™tā ā€”what then?ā€

ā€œJust so,ā€ said Hetherwick. ā€œThatā€™s itā ā€”what then? But before we do anything at all, Mapperley, Iā€™d better post you up as to whatā€™s happened elsewhere this morning. You see,ā€ he continued, when he had finished his story, ā€œif Matherfieldā€™s theory is correct, and Baseverie has already gone to Southampton to collect that parcel on its arrival, and if Ambrose has gone with him, we shanā€™t find Baseverie at this address. Butā ā€”we might inquire if heā€™s known there.ā€

Mapperley reflected a while. Then an idea seemed to suggest itself.

ā€œPay your bill, sir, and letā€™s get out to a Post Office Directory somewhere,ā€ he said. ā€œWeā€™ll get the name of the occupier of 56, Little Smith Street.ā€

Ten minutes later they were looking down the long columns of names in a directory; Mapperley suddenly pointed to what they wanted.

ā€œThere we are!ā€ he said. ā€œMrs. Hannah Mallettā ā€”boardinghouse proprietor.ā€

ā€œCome along!ā€ said Hetherwick. ā€œWeā€™ll see Mrs. Mallett, anyhow.ā€

But on arrival at Little Smith Street, Mapperley looked round first, for his friend, Mr. Goldmark. Mr. Goldmark materialised suddenlyā ā€”apparently from nowhereā ā€”and smiled.

ā€œAfternoon, mithter!ā€ he said politely to Hetherwick. ā€œLovely weather, ithnā€™t it? Ainā€™t theen nothing, Mapperley, old bean! Ainā€™t been a thoul in or out oā€™ that houth, thinth you hopped it! Theemth to me itā€™th locked up.ā€

ā€œWeā€™ll see about that,ā€ remarked Hetherwick. ā€œCome with me, Mapperley. You stay here. Goldmark, and keep your eyes as open as before.ā€

He advanced boldly, with the clerk at his heels, to the door of number 56, and knocked loudly on the stout panel, supplementing this with a ring at the bell. This dual summons was twice repeatedā ā€”with no result.

ā€œSomebody coming!ā€ whispered Mapperley, suddenly. ā€œBoltedā ā€”insideā ā€”as well as locked!ā€

Hetherwick distinctly heard the sound of a stout bolt being withdrawn, then of a key being turned. The door was openedā ā€”only a little, but sufficiently to show them the face and figure of an unusually big woman, an Amazon in appearance, hard of eye and lip, who glared at them suspiciously, and as soon as she saw that there were two of them, narrowed the space through which she inspected her callers. But Hetherwick got a hand on the door and a foot across the threshold.

ā€œMrs. Mallett?ā€ he inquired in a purposely loud voice. ā€œJust so! Is Doctor Baseverie in?ā€

Both men were watching the woman keenly, and they saw that she started a little, involuntarily. But her head shook a ready negative.

ā€œNobody of that name here!ā€ she answered.

She would have shut the door, but for Hetherwickā€™s footā ā€”he advanced it further, giving Mrs. Mallett a keen, searching glance.

ā€œPerhaps you know Dr. Baseverie by another name?ā€ he suggested. ā€œSoā ā€”is Mr. Basing in?ā€

But the ready shake of the head came again, and the hard eyes grew harder and more suspicious.

ā€œNobody of that name here, either!ā€ she said. ā€œDonā€™t know anybody of those names.ā€

ā€œI think you do,ā€ persisted Hetherwick sternly. He turned to Mapperley, purposely. ā€œWe shall have to get the policeā ā€”ā€

ā€œLook out, sir!ā€ exclaimed Mapperley, snatching at Hetherwickā€™s arm. ā€œYour fingers!ā€

The woman suddenly banged the door to, narrowly missing Hetherwickā€™s hand, which he had closed on the edge; a second later they heard the bolt slipped and the key turned. And Hetherwick, as with a swift illumination, comprehended things, and turned sharply on his clerk.

ā€œMapperley!ā€ he exclaimed. ā€œSure as fate! Those ladies are in there! Trapped!ā€

ā€œShouldnā€™t wonder, sir,ā€ agreed Mapperley. ā€œAnd as you sayā ā€”the policeā ā€”ā€

ā€œCome back to Goldmark,ā€ said Hetherwick.

Going lower down the street and retreating into the shelter of a doorway, the three men held a rapid consultation, suddenly interrupted by an exclamation from the Jew, who still kept his eyes on the house:

ā€œThā€™elp me if the woman ainā€™t leavinā€™ that

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