cloth, and on the other---- He gave a jump and a
howl, and retreated a step or two in a state of absolute panic. For
there in a corner, with his face toward the engine, half sat, half
leaned, the figure of a dead man, with a bullet-hole between his eyes,
and a small, nickel-plated revolver loosely clasped in the bent fingers
of one limp and lifeless hand.

The body was that of a man whose age could not, at the most, have
exceeded eight-and-thirty, a man who must, in life, have been more than
ordinarily handsome. His hair and moustache were fair, his clothing was
of extreme elegance in both material and fashioning, he wore no
jewellery of any description, unless one excepts a plain gold ring on
the fourth finger of the left hand, his feet were shod in patent-leather
boots, in the rack overhead rested a shining silk hat of the newest
fashion, an orange-wood walking-stick, and a pair of gray suede gloves.
An evening paper lay between his feet, open, as though it had been read,
and in his buttonhole there was a single mauve orchid of exquisite
beauty and delicacy. The body was quite alone in the compartment, and
there was not a scrap of luggage of any description.

"Suicide," gulped the startled station-master as soon as he could find
strength to say anything; then he hastily slammed and relocked the door,
set Webb on guard before it, and flew to notify the engine driver and to
send word to the local police.

The news of the tragedy spread like wildfire, but the station-master,
who had his wits about him, would allow nobody to leave the station
until the authorities had arrived, and suffered no man or woman to come
within a yard of the compartment where the dead man lay.

Some one has said that "nothing comes by chance," but whether that is
true or not, it happened that Mr. Maverick Narkom was among those who
had attended the lunch in honour of the Lord Mayor that day, and that,
at the very moment when this ghastly discovery was made on the down
platform at Anerley station, he was standing with the crowd on the up
one, waiting for the train to Victoria. This train was to convey Cleek,
whom he had promised to join at Anerley, returning from a day spent
with Captain Morrison and his daughter in the beautiful home they had
bought when the law decided that the captain was the legitimate heir of
George Carboys and lawful successor to Abdul ben Meerza's money.

As soon as the news of the tragedy reached him Mr. Narkom crosse