“Here is a new and startling, if not altogether unexpected, development,” said Thorndyke, as we stood gazing at the bill; which set forth that “these premises, including stabling and workshops,” were “to be let on lease or otherwise,” and referred inquiries to Messrs. Ryebody Brothers, house-agents and valuers, Upper Kennington Lane.  “The question is, should we make a few inquiries of the agent, or should we get the keys and have a look at the inside of the house?  I am inclined to do both, and the latter first, if Messrs. Ryebody Brothers will trust us with the keys.”

We proceeded up the lane to the address given, and, entering the office, Thorndyke made his request—­somewhat to the surprise of the clerk; for Thorndyke was not quite the kind of person whom one naturally associates with stabling and workshops.  However, there was no difficulty, but as the clerk sorted out the keys from a bunch hanging from a hook, he remarked: 

“I expect you will find the place in a rather dirty and neglected condition.  The house has not been cleaned yet; it is just as it was left when the brokers took away the furniture.”

“Was the last tenant sold up, then?” Thorndyke asked.

“Oh, no.  He had to leave rather unexpectedly to take up some business in Germany.”

“I hope he paid his rent,” said Thorndyke.

“Oh, yes.  Trust us for that.  But I should say that Mr. Weiss—­that was his name—­was a man of some means.  He seemed to have plenty of money, though he always paid in notes.  I don’t fancy he had a banking account in this country.  He hadn’t been here more than about six or seven months and I imagine he didn’t know many people in England, as he paid us a cash deposit in lieu of references when he first came.”

“I think you said his name was Weiss.  It wouldn’t be H. Weiss by any chance?”

“I believe it was.  But I can soon tell you.”  He opened a drawer and consulted what looked like a book of receipt forms.  “Yes; H Weiss.  Do you know him, sir?”

“I knew a Mr. H. Weiss some years ago.  He came from Bremen, I remember.”

“This Mr. Weiss has gone back to Hamburg,” the clerk observed.

“Ah,” said Thorndyke, “then it would seem not to be the same.  My acquaintance was a fair man with a beard and a decidedly red nose and he wore spectacles.”

“That’s the man.  You’ve described him exactly,” said the clerk, who was apparently rather easily satisfied in the matter of description.

“Dear me,” said Thorndyke; “what a small world it is.  Do you happen to have a note of his address in Hamburg?”

“I haven’t,” the clerk replied.  “You see we’ve done with him, having got the rent, though the house is not actually surrendered yet.  Mr Weiss’s housekeeper still has the front-door key.  She doesn’t start for Hamburg for a week or so, and meanwhile she keeps the key so that she can call every day and see if there are any letters.”