nk
Merrill laughed.

"You have a very good memory for this kind of thing. Do you live here?"
he asked.

"Oh, no!" The little man shook his head vigorously.

He was silent for a moment, and then:

"I think we had better go over and see what it is all about," he said
with a certain gravity.

His assumption of leadership was a little staggering, and Frank turned
to the girl.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

She shook her head, and the three passed over the road to the little
group just as the ambulance came jangling into the square. To Merrill's
surprise, the policeman greeted the little man respectfully, touching
his helmet.

"I'm afraid nothing can be done, sir. He is--gone."

"Oh, yes, he's gone!" said the other quite calmly.

He stooped down, turned back the man's coat, and slipped his hand into
the inside pocket, but drew blank; the pocket was empty. With an
extraordinary rapidity of movement, he continued his search, and to the
astonishment of Frank Merrill the policeman did not deny his right. In
the top left-hand pocket of the waistcoat he pulled out a crumpled slip
which proved to be a newspaper clipping.

"Ah!" said the little man. "An advertisement for a manservant cut out of
this morning's _Daily Telegraph_; I saw it myself. Evidently a
manservant who was on his way to interview a new employer. You see:
'Call at eight-thirty at Holborn Viaduct Hotel.' He was taking a short
cut when his illness overcame him. I know who is advertising for the
valet," he added gratuitously; "he is a Mr. T. Burton, who is a rubber
factor from Penang. Mr. T. Burton married the daughter of the Reverend
George Smith, of Scarborough, in 1889, and has four children, one of
whom is at Winchester. Hum!"

He pursed his lips and looked down again at the body; then suddenly he
turned to Frank Merrill.

"Do you know this man?" he demanded.

Frank looked at him in astonishment.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You were looking at him as though you did," said the little man. "That
is to say, you were not looking at his face. People who do not look at
other people's faces under these circumstances know them."

"Curiously enough," said Frank, with a little smile, "there is some one
here I know," and he caught the eye of Constable Wiseman.

That ornament of the Sussex constabulary touched his cap.

"I thought I recognized you, sir. I have often seen you at Weald Lodge,"
he said.

Further conversation was cut short as they lifted the