“I?  Business?” exclaimed Allerdyke.  “What sort of business?”

“He’s an inventor’s agent,” replied Appleyard.  “It’s a profession I never heard of before, but he seems to act as a go-between.  Folks that have got an invention go to him—­he helps ’em about it—­helps ’em to perfect it, patent it, get it on the market.  You’ve a good excuse—­there’s that patent railway chair of your man Gankrodgers, been lying there in that corner for the past year, and you promised Gankrodgers you’d help him about it.  Put it in a cab and go to this Rayner, or Ramsay—­there’s your excuse, and you can say you heard of him in the City, from Wilmingtons—­it was they who told me what he was.  It’s a good notion, Mr. Allerdyke.”

“What object?” asked Allerdyke.

“Simply to get a look at him,” replied Appleyard.  “Look here—­you know very well that there’s a strong suspicion against Miss Slade.  Miss Slade, to my knowledge, is in close touch, with Rayner.  Therefore, let’s know what we can about Rayner.  You’re the man to go and see him at his own place.  Do it—­and we’ll consider the question of having him watched by the two Gaffneys when you’ve seen and talked to him.”

Allerdyke considered this somewhat strange proposal in silence for a while.  At last he rose with a look of decision.

“Well, I’ve certainly a good excuse,” he said.  “Here, have that thing packed up and put in a cab—­I’ll go.”

Half an hour later he found himself shown into a smartly furnished office where Mr. Gavin Ramsay sat at a handsome desk surrounded by shelves and cabinets whereon and wherein were set out the products of the brains of many inventors—­models of machines, mechanical toys, labour-saving notions, things plainly useful, things obviously extravagant.  The occupant of this museum glanced at Allerdyke and the box which he carried with an amused smile, and Allerdyke said to himself that Appleyard was right in his description—­if the man was crippled and deformed he certainly possessed a beautiful face.

“Mr. Marshall Allerdyke,” said the hope of inventors, glancing at the card which his visitor had sent in.

“The same, sir,” replied Allerdyke, setting down his box.  “Mr. Ramsay, I presume?  I heard of you, Mr. Ramsay, through Wilmingtons, in the City; heard you can be of great use to inventors.  I have here,” he continued, opening the box, “a railway chair, invented by one of my workmen, a clever fellow.  You see, it ’ud do away with the present system of putting wooden blocks in the chairs now used—­this would fasten the sleepers and rails together automatically.  It is patented—­provisionally protected, anyhow—­but my man’s never got a railway company to try it, so far.  Think you can do anything, Mr. Ramsay?”

The hunchback got up from his desk, took the invention out of its box, and carefully inspected it, asking Allerdyke a few shrewd questions about the thing’s possibilities which showed the caller that he knew what he was talking about.  Then he sat down again and went into business details in a way which impressed Allerdyke—­clearly this man, whoever he was, and whatever mystery might attach to him, was a smart individual.  Also he had a frank, direct way of talking which gave his visitor a very good first opinion of him.