holly to the Japanese.

"You have an acquaintance--perhaps I should say a confederate--residing at
No. 37 Middle Street, Kennington--" he began.

"I do not understand," broke in Jiro, whose sallow face crinkled like a
withered apple in the effort to display non-comprehension.

"Oh yes, you do. The man's name is Ooma. He is a tall, strongly-built
native of Japan. He sent you to Ipswich to watch the trial of Mr. David
Hume-Frazer for the murder of his cousin. He got you to write the
post-card to Scotland Yard on the type-writer which you disposed of the
day after my visit here. You recognised the motto of his house in the
design which I showed you, and which was borne on the blade of the
Ko-Katana. For some reason which I cannot fathom, unless you are his
accomplice, you made your wife dress in male attire and go to warn him
that some person was on his track. You see I know everything."

As each sentence of this indictment proceeded it was pitiable to watch the
faces of the couple. Jiro became a grotesque, fit to adorn the ugliest of
Satsuma plaques. Mrs. Jiro visibly swelled with agitation. Brett felt that
she was too full, and would overflow with tears in an instant.

"This is vely bad!" gasped Jiro.

"Oh, Nummie dear, have we been doing wrong?" moaned his spouse.

The barrister determined to frighten them thoroughly.

"It is a grave question with the authorities whether they should not
arrest you instantly," he said.

"On what charge?" cried Jiro.

"On a charge of complicity after the act in relation to the murder of Sir
Alan Hume-Frazer. Your accomplice, Ooma, is the murderer."

"What!" shrieked Mrs. Jiro, flouncing on to her knees and breaking forth
into piteous sobs. "Oh, my precious infant! Oh, my darling Nummie! Will
they part us from our babe?"

The door opened, and a frowsy head appeared.

"Did you call, mum?" inquired the small maid-servant.

"Get out!" shouted Brett; and the door slammed.

"Mr. Blett," whimpered the Japanese, "I did not do this thing. I am
innocent. I knew nothing about it until--until--"

"You verified the motto on the blade by consulting the 'Nihon Suai Shi' in
the British Museum."

This shot floored Jiro metaphorically, and his wife literally, for she
sank into a heap.

"He knows everything, Nummie," she cried.

"Evelything!" repeated her husband.

"Then tell him the rest!". (Yet she was born in Suffolk.)

Brett scowled terribly as a subterfuge for laughter.

"Tel