"He says it was--I do not say he is right," cried the Professor, in a
loud voice, pointing a finger at his victim's breast--"he says it was
_the mark of cain_!"

The sailor, beneath his mahogany tan, turned a livid white, and grasped
at a bookcase by which he stood.

"What do you mean?" he cried, through his chattering teeth; "what do you
mean with your damned Hebrew-Dutch and your mark of Cain? The mark's all
right! A Hadendowa woman did it in Suakim years ago. Ain't it on that
chart of yours?"

"Certainly, good sir; it is," answered the Professor. "Why do you so
agitate yourself? _The proof is complete!_" he added, still pointing at
the sailor's breast.

"Then I'll put on my togs, with your leave: it's none so warm!" grumbled
the man.

He had so far completed his dressing that he was in his waistcoat, and
was just looking round for his coat.

"Stop!" said the Professor. "Hold Mr. Johnson's coat for a moment!"

This was to young Wright, who laid his hands on the garment in question.

"You must be tired, sir," said the Professor, in a very soft voice. "May
I offer you a leedle cigarette?"

He drew from his pocket a silver cigarette-case, and, in a thoroughly
English accent, he went on:

"I have waited long to give you back your cigarette-case, which you left
at your club, Mr. Thomas Cranley!"

The sailor's eye fell on it. He dashed the silver box violently to the
ground, and trampled on it, then he made one rush at his coat.

"Hold it, hold it!" cried Barton, laying aside his Teutonic
accent--"hold it: there's a revolver in the pocket!"

But there was no need to struggle for the coat.

The sailor had suddenly staggered and fallen, a crumpled but not
unconscious mass, on the floor.

"Call in the police!" said Barton. "They'll have no difficulty in taking
him."

"This is the man against whom you have the warrant," he went on, as
young Wright opened the door and admitted two policemen. "I charge the
Honorable Thomas Cranley with murder!"

The officers lifted the fallen man.

"Let him be," said Barton. "He has collapsed. Lay him on the floor: he's
better so. He needs a turn of my profession: his heart's weak. Bring
some brandy."

Young Wright went for the spirits, while the frightened old lawyer kept
murmuring:

"The Honorable Thomas Cranley _was_ always very unsatisfactory!"

It had been explained to the old gentleman that an impostor would be
unmasked, and a criminal arrested; but he had _not_