ton Max was in England or that M. Gaston Max was dead. I say,
presumably 'The Scorpion' because it is fair to assume that the person
whom Max pursued was responsible for his death.

"Of course"--the Commissioner reached for the box of cigarettes--"were
it not for the telephone message, we should be unjustified in assuming
that Mlle. Dorian and this"--he laid his finger upon the piece of
cardboard--"had any connection with the case of M. Max. But the
message was so obviously designed to facilitate the purloining of the
sealed envelope and so obviously emanated from one already aware of
the murder of M. Max, that the sender is identified at once with--
'The Scorpion.'"

The Assistant Commissioner complacently lighted a fresh cigarette.

"Finally," he said, "the mode of death in the case of M. Max may not
have been the same as in the other cases. Therefore, Dr. Stuart"--he
paused impressively--"if you fail to detect anything suspicious at the
post mortem examination I propose to apply to the Home Secretary for
power to exhume the body of the late Sir Frank Narcombe!"

Deep in reflection, Stuart walked alone along the Embankment. The full
facts contained in the report from Paris the Commissioner had not
divulged, but Stuart concluded that this sudden activity was directly
due, not to the death of M. Max, but to the fact that he (Max) had
left behind him some more or less tangible clue. Stuart fully
recognized that the Commissioner had accorded him an opportunity to
establish his reputation--or to wreck it.

Yet, upon closer consideration, it became apparent that it was to
Fate and not to the Commissioner that he was indebted. Strictly
speaking, his association with the matter dated from the night of
his meeting with the mysterious cabman in West India Dock road. Or had
the curtain first been lifted upon this occult drama that evening,
five years ago, as the setting sun reddened the waters of the Imperial
Canal and a veiled figure passed him on the Wu-Men Bridge?

"Shut your eyes tightly, master--the Scorpion is coming!"

He seemed to hear the boy's words now, as he passed along the
Embankment; he seemed to see again the tall figure. And suddenly he
stopped, stood still and stared with unseeing eyes across the muddy
waters of the Thames. He was thinking of the cowled man who had stood
behind the curtains in his study--of that figure so wildly bizarre
that even now he could scarcely believe that he had ever actually se