asure of
social protest."

Sir James smiled at the telephone: a smile of success. "Come, my boy,
you're getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the case.
You know you do. If it's anything you don't want to handle, you're free
to drop it. By the bye, where are you?"

"I am blown along a wandering wind," replied the voice irresolutely,
"and hollow, hollow, hollow all delight."

"Can you get here within an hour?" persisted Sir James.

"I suppose I can," the voice grumbled. "How much time have I?"

"Good man! Well, there's time enough--that's just the worst of it. I've
got to depend on our local correspondent for to-night. The only good
train of the day went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, leaving
Paddington at midnight. You could have the Buster, if you like"--Sir
James referred to a very fast motor-car of his--"but you wouldn't get
down in time to do anything to-night."

"And I'd miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite fond of
railway-traveling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker and
the stoked, I am the song the porter sings."

"What's that you say?"

"It doesn't matter," said the voice sadly. "I say," it continued, "will
your people look out a hotel near the scene of action, and telegraph for
a room?"

"At once," said Sir James. "Come here as soon as you can!" He replaced
the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill outcry burst
forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A band of
excited boys was rushing down the steps of the Sun building and up the
narrow thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a bundle of
newspapers and a large broadsheet with the simple legend:

MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON

Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully.

"It makes a good bill," he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his
elbow.

Such was Manderson's epitaph.

CHAPTER II

BREAKFAST

At about eight o'clock in the morning of the following day Mr. Nathaniel
Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at Marlstone. He was
thinking about breakfast. In his case the colloquialism must be taken
literally; he really was thinking about breakfast, as he thought about
every conscious act of his life when time allowed deliberation. He
reflected that on the preceding day the excitement and activity
following upon the discovery of the corpse had disorganized his appetite
and led to his taking considerably