utiae_ are of no immediate importance."

"_Non d'un p'tit bonhomme!_" whispered Gaston Max. "I see! You think
that Ericksen had completed his experiments before he died, but that
he never lived to give them to the world?"

The Assistant Commissioner waved one hand in the air so that he
discoloration of the first and second fingers was very noticeable.

"It is for you to ascertain these points, M. Max," he said--"I only
suggest. But I begin to share your belief that a series of daring and
unusual assassinations has been taking place under the eyes of the
police authorities of Europe. It can only be poison--an unknown poison,
perhaps. We shall be empowered to exhume the body of the late Sir
Frank Narcombe in a few days' time, I hope. His case puzzles me
hopelessly. What obstacle did a surgeon offer to this hypothetical
Eastern movement? On the other hand, what can have been filched from
him before his death? The death of an inventor, a statesman, a soldier,
can be variously explained by your 'Yellow' hypothesis, M. Max, but
what of the death of a surgeon?"

Gaston Max shrugged, and his mobile mouth softened in a quaint smile.

"We have learned a little," he said, "and guessed a lot. Let us hope
to guess more--and learn everything!"

"May I suggest," added Dunbar, "that we hear Sowerby's report, sir?"

"Certainly," agreed the Assistant Commissioner--"call Sergeant
Sowerby."

A moment later Sergeant Sowerby entered, his face very red and his
hair bristling more persistently than usual.

"Anything to report, Sowerby?" asked Dunbar.

"Yes, Inspector," replied Sowerby, in his Police Court manner;--he
faced the Assistant Commissioner, "with your permission, sir."

He took out a note-book which appeared to be the twin of Dunbar's and
consulted it, assuming an expression of profound reflection.

"In the first place, sir," he began, never raising his eyes from the
page, "I have traced the cab sold on the hire-purchase system to a
certain Charles _Mallett..._"

"Ha, ha!" laughed Max breezily--"he calls me a hammer! It is not
Mallett, Sergeant Sowerby--you have got too many _l's_ in that name;
it is Malet and is called like one from the Malay States!"

"Oh," commented Sowerby, glancing up--"indeed. Very good, sir. The
owner claims the balance of purchase money!"

Every one laughed at that, even the satanic Assistant Commissioner.

"Pay your debts, M. Max," he said. "You will bring the Service de
Surete into bad re