f one who has cast pearls before swine.

"Any finger-prints?" asked the Chief in the hall.

"Oh, no," he said, "Barney's far too old a hand for that sort o'
thing!"

The landing proved to be a small space, covered with oilcloth and
raised by a step from the bend made by the staircase leading to
the first story. On the left-hand side was a window looking on a
narrow passage separating the Mackwayte house from its neighbors
and leading to the back-door. By the window stood a small
wicker-work table with a plant on it. At the back of the landing
was a partition, glazed half-way up and a door--obviously the
bath-room.

The curtain had been looped right over its brass rod. The body
lay on its back at the foot of the table, arms flung outward, one
leg doubled up, the other with the foot just jutting out over the
step leading down to the staircase. The head pointed towards the
bath-room door. Over the right eye the skin of the face was
blackened in a great patch and there was a large blue swelling,
like a bruise, in the centre. There was a good deal of blood on
the face which obscured the hole made by the entrance of the
bullet. The eyes were half-closed. A big camera, pointed
downwards, was mounted on a high double ladder straddling the
body and was operated by a young man in a bowler hat who went on
with his work without taking the slightest notice of the
detective and his companions.

"Close range," murmured Desmond, after glancing at the dead man's
face, "a large calibre automatic pistol, I should think!"

"Why do you think it was a large calibre pistol, Major?" asked
Mr. Marigold attentively.

"I've seen plenty of men killed at close range by revolver and
rifle bullets out at the front," replied Desmond, "but I never
saw a man's face messed up like this. In a raid once I shot a
German at point blank range with my revolver, the ordinary Army
issue pattern, and I looked him over after. But it wasn't
anything like this. The only thing I've seen approaching it was
one of our sergeants who was killed out on patrol by a Hun
officer who put his gun right in our man's face. That sergeant
was pretty badly marked, but..."

He shook his head. Then he added, addressing the detective:
"Let's see the gun! Have you got it?"

Mr. Marigold shook his head.

"He hadn't got it on him," he answered, "he swears he never had a
gun. I expect he chucked it away somewhere. It'll be our business
to find it for him!"

He smiled rat