blishing
the identity of that man. He was a loyal servant. That, however,
appeared impossible. The first term of the problem was
unreadable--lacked all suggestion but that of atrocious cruelty.

Overcoming his physical repugnance, Chief Inspector Heat stretched out
his hand without conviction for the salving of his conscience, and took
up the least soiled of the rags. It was a narrow strip of velvet with a
larger triangular piece of dark blue cloth hanging from it. He held it
up to his eyes; and the police constable spoke.

"Velvet collar. Funny the old woman should have noticed the velvet
collar. Dark blue overcoat with a velvet collar, she has told us. He
was the chap she saw, and no mistake. And here he is all complete,
velvet collar and all. I don't think I missed a single piece as big as a
postage stamp."

At this point the trained faculties of the Chief Inspector ceased to hear
the voice of the constable. He moved to one of the windows for better
light. His face, averted from the room, expressed a startled intense
interest while he examined closely the triangular piece of broad-cloth.
By a sudden jerk he detached it, and _only_ after stuffing it into his
pocket turned round to the room, and flung the velvet collar back on the
table--

"Cover up," he directed the attendants curtly, without another look, and,
saluted by the constable, carried off his spoil hastily.

A convenient train whirled him up to town, alone and pondering deeply, in
a third-class compartment. That singed piece of cloth was incredibly
valuable, and he could not defend himself from astonishment at the casual
manner it had come into his possession. It was as if Fate had thrust
that clue into his hands. And after the manner of the average man, whose
ambition is to command events, he began to mistrust such a gratuitous and
accidental success--just because it seemed forced upon him. The
practical value of success depends not a little on the way you look at
it. But Fate looks at nothing. It has no discretion. He no longer
considered it eminently desirable all round to establish publicly the
identity of the man who had blown himself up that morning with such
horrible completeness. But he was not certain of the view his department
would take. A department is to those it employs a complex personality
with ideas and even fads of its own. It depends on the loyal devotion of
its servants, and the devoted loyalty of trusted servan