"You're a great man, sir," he breathed.

The old man chuckled.

"And you may even be a great detective," he said. "In five minutes your Mr. Lassimus White will be here. You suggested I should send for him--who is he, by the way?"

"The managing director of Punsonby's. A friend of van Heerden's and a shareholder in his Great Adventure."

"But he knows nothing?"

There was a tap at the door and a page-boy came into the sitting-room with a card.

"Show the gentleman up," said Kitson; "it is our friend," he explained.

"And he may know a great deal," said Beale.

Mr. White stalked into the room dangling his glasses with the one hand and holding his shiny silk hat with the other. He invariably carried his hat as though it were a rifle he were shouldering.

He bowed ceremoniously and closed the door behind him.

"Mr.--ah--Kitson?" he said, and advanced a big hand. "I received your note and am, as you will observe, punctual. I may say that my favourite motto is 'Punctuality is the politeness of princes."

"You know Mr. Beale?"

Mr. White bowed stiffly.

"I have--ah--met Mr. Beale."

"In my unregenerate days," said Beale cheerfully, "but I am quite sober now."

"I am delighted to learn this," said Mr. White. "I am extremely glad to learn this."

"Mr. Kitson asked you to come, Mr. White, but really it is I who want to see you," said Beale. "To be perfectly frank, I learnt that you were in some slight difficulty."

"Difficulty?" Mr. White bristled. "Me, sir, in difficulty? The head of the firm of Punsonby's, whose credit stands, sir, as a model of sound industrial finance? Oh no, sir."

Beale was taken aback. He had depended upon information which came from unimpeachable sources to secure the co-operation of this pompous windbag.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I understood that you had called a meeting of creditors and had offered to sell certain shares in a syndicate which I had hoped to take off your hands."

Mr. White inclined his head graciously.

"It is true, sir," he said, "that I asked a few--ah--wholesale firms to meet me and to talk over things. It is also true that I--ah--had shares which had ceased to interest me, but those shares are sold."

"Sold! Has van Heerden bought them in?" asked Beale eagerly; and Mr.

White nodded.

"Doctor van Heerden, a remarkable man, a truly remarkable man." He shook his head as if he could not bring himself and never would bring himself to understand how remarkable a man the doctor was. "Doctor van Heerden has repurchased my shares and they have made me a very handsome profit."

"When was this?" asked Beale.

"I really cannot allow myself to be cross-examined, young man," he said severely, "by your accent I perceive that you are of trans-Atlantic origin, but I cannot allow you to hustle me--hustle I believe is the word. The firm of Punsonby's----"

"Forget 'em," said Beale tersely. "Punsonby's has been on the verge of collapse for eight years. Let's get square, Mr. White. Punsonby's is a one man company and you're that man. Its balance sheets are faked, its reserves are non-existent. Its sinking fund is _spurlos versenkt_."

"Sir!"

"I tell you I know Punsonby's--I've had the best accountants in London working out your position, and I know you live from hand to mouth and that the margin between your business and bankruptcy is as near as the margin between you and prison."

Mr. White was very pale.

"But that isn't my business and I dare say that the money van Heerden paid you this morning will stave off your creditors. Anyway, I'm not running a Pure Business Campaign. I'm running a campaign against your German friend van Heerden."

"A German?" said the virtuous Mr. White in loud astonishment. "Surely not--a Holland gentleman----"

"He's a German and you know it. You've been financing him in a scheme to ruin the greater part of Europe and the United States, to say nothing of Canada, South America, India and Australia."

"I protest against such an inhuman charge," said Mr. White solemnly, and he rose. "I cannot stay here any longer----"

"If you go I'll lay information against you," said Beale. "I'm in dead earnest, so you can go or stay. First of all, I want to know in what form you received the money?"

"By cheque," replied White in a flurry.

"On what bank?"

"The London branch of the Swedland National Bank."

"A secret branch of the Dresdner Bank," said Beale. "That's promising.

Has Doctor Van Heerden ever paid you money before?"

By now Mr. White was the most tractable of witnesses. All his old assurance had vanished, and his answers were almost apologetic in tone.

"Yes, Mr. Beale, small sums."

"On what bank?"

"On my own bank."

"Good again. Have you ever known that he had an account elsewhere--for example, you advanced him a very considerable sum of money; was your cheque cleared through the Swedland National Bank?"

"No, sir--through my own bank."

Beale fingered his chin.

"Money this morning and he took his loss in good part--that can only mean one thing." He nodded. "Mr. White, you have supplied me with valuable information."

"I trust I have said nothing which may--ah--incriminate one who has invariably treated me with the highest respect," Mr. White hastened to say.

"Not more than he is incriminated," smiled Stanford. "One more question.