"Quite so, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs. "Now, Mr. Sydney Green--or shall I
call you, Mr. Derrick Dene?"

Mr. Clendon started slightly and bent his piercing eyes on Derrick, who
coloured and bit his lip.

"Yes, that's my name," he said; "but I don't know how you know it."

"My dear Mr. Dene," said Mr. Jacobs, blandly, "we people in Scotland
Yard know a great many things. Just as an instance, let me tell you what
I know about you. You were placed at an early age in the care of a
worthy couple named Jackson, who brought you up and started you in the
profession which I am sure you will adorn. Owing to a--well, let us say,
a misunderstanding--you left England--er--somewhat abruptly, and went
with a travelling circus to South America; in South America you left the
circus and found employment on a ranch, owned by a lady named Donna
Elvira----"

Derrick, frowning, stared at him and did not notice that Mr. Clendon had
quietly sunk into a chair and, with his hands leaning on his stick, was
looking fixedly at Derrick.

"You want to know how we came to know all this?" said Mr. Jacobs,
cheerfully. "Well, we had the little affair of the forged cheque placed
in our hands, and were following it up when a Mr. Brown, the Sutcombe
family solicitor, stepped in and stopped us. You see, the bank refused
to prosecute and we couldn't move without it. But, in the course of our
inquiries into the business of the forged cheque, we naturally traced
your antecedents, and it seemed to us--well, to put it shortly, that
your history was so interesting it was worth following. I have all the
notes here." He tapped a little book he had taken from his pocket. "You
will want to know why I brought it down with me, when I was engaged upon
another case and had little reason to expect that you would be arrested
on this charge?"