t-case, one which could easily be carried, with its upper half thrown
open and back against the wall behind.

The landlady, Mr. Dellingham and Bryce stood silently by while the
inspector examined the contents of this the only piece of luggage in
the room. There was very little to see--what toilet articles the visitor
brought were spread out on the dressing-table--brushes, combs, a case
of razors, and the like. And Mitchington nodded side-wise at them as he
began to take the articles out of the suit-case.

"There's one thing strikes me at once," he said. "I dare say you
gentlemen notice it. All these things are new! This suit-case hasn't
been in use very long--see, the leather's almost unworn--and those
things on the dressing-table are new. And what there is here
looks new, too. There's not much, you see--he evidently had
no intention of a long stop. An extra pair of trousers--some
shirts--socks--collars--neckties--slippers--handkerchiefs--that's about
all. And the first thing to do is to see if the linen's marked with name
or initials."

He deftly examined the various articles as he took them out, and in the
end shook his head.

"No name--no initials," he said. "But look here--do you see, gentlemen,
where these collars were bought? Half a dozen of them, in a box. Paris!
There you are--the seller's name, inside the collar, just as in England.
Aristide Pujol, 82, Rue des Capucines. And--judging by the look
of 'em--I should say these shirts were bought there, too--and the
handkerchiefs--and the neckwear--they all have a foreign look. There may
be a clue in that--we might trace him in France if we can't in England.
Perhaps he is a Frenchman."

"I'll take my oath he isn't!" exclaimed Mr. Dellingham. "However long
he'd been out of England he hadn't lost a North-Country accent! He was
some sort of a North-Countryman--Yorkshire or Lancashire, I'll go bail.
No Frenchman, officer--not he!"

"Well, there's no papers here, anyway," said Mitchington, who had now
emptied the suit-case. "Nothing to show who he was. Nothing here, you
see, in the way of paper but this old book--what is it--History of
Barthorpe."

"He showed me that in the train," remarked Mr. Dellingham. "I'm
interested in antiquities and archaeology, and anybody who's long in my
society finds it out. We got talking of such things, and he pulled out
that book, and told me with great pride, that he'd picked it up from
a book-barrow in the street, somewhere in Lo