ng with him the
sleepy barman.

"These gentlemen want some information about a man who was here
to-night," the landlord said by way of introduction. "Perhaps you can
give it?"

"What was he like, sir?" asked the barman of the Inspector. The latter,
however, turned to me.

"Tall, slim, with a sallow complexion," I said, "black hair and very
dark restless eyes. He came in here with the Hon. Sylvester Wetherell's
coachman."

The man seemed to recollect him at once.

"I remember him," he said. "They sat in No. 5 down the passage there,
and the man you mention ordered a nobbler of rum and a whisky."

"That's the fellow we want," said the Inspector. "Now tell me this, have
you ever seen him in here before?"

"Never once," said the barman, "and that's a solemn fact, because if I
had I couldn't have forgotten it. His figure-head wouldn't let you do
that. No, sir, to-night was the first night he's ever been in the
_Canary Bird_."

"Did any one else visit them while they were in the room together?"

"Not as I know of. But stay, I'm not so certain. Yes; I remember seeing
a tall, good-looking chap come down the passage and go in there. But it
was some time, half an hour maybe, after I took in the drinks."

"Did you see him come out again?"

"No. But I know the coachman got very drunk, and had to be carried out
to the carriage."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I saw the other two doing it."

The Inspector turned to me.

"Not very satisfactory, is it?"

"No," I answered. "But do you mind letting us look into No. 5--the room
they occupied?"

"Not at all," said the landlord. "Come with me."

So saying he led the way down the passage to a little room on the
right-hand side, the door of which he threw open with a theatrical
flourish. It was in pitch darkness, but a few seconds later the gas was
lit and we could see all that it contained. A small table stood in the
centre of the room, and round the walls were ranged two or three wooden
chairs. A small window was at the further end and a fireplace opposite
the door. On the table was a half-smoked cigar and a torn copy of the
_Evening Mercury_. But that was not what I wanted, so I went down on my
hands and knees and looked about upon the floor. Presently I descried a
small ball of paper near the grate. Picking it up I seated myself at the
table and turned to the barman, who was watching my movements
attentively.

"Was this room used by any other people after th