show what was the manner of his disappearance?"

"The facts in our possession," said Thorndyke, "which are mainly those
set forth in the newspaper report, suggest several alternative
possibilities; and in view of the coming inquiry--for they will, no
doubt, have to be gone into in Court, to some extent--it may be worth
while to consider them. There are five conceivable hypotheses"--here
Thorndyke checked them on his fingers as he proceeded--"First, he may
still be alive. Second, he may have died and been buried without
identification. Third, he may have been murdered by some unknown person.
Fourth, he may have been murdered by Hurst and his body concealed.
Fifth, he may have been murdered by his brother. Let us examine these
possibilities seriatim.

"First, he may still be alive. If he is, he must either have disappeared
voluntarily, have lost his memory suddenly and not been identified, or
have been imprisoned--on a false charge or otherwise. Let us take the
first case--that of voluntary disappearance. Obviously, its
improbability is extreme."

"Jellicoe doesn't think so," said I. "He thinks it quite on the cards
that John Bellingham is alive. He says that it is not a very unusual
thing for a man to disappear for a time."

"Then why is he applying for a presumption of death?"

"Just what I asked him. He says that it is the correct thing to do; that
the entire responsibility rests on the Court."

"That is all nonsense," said Thorndyke. "Jellicoe is the trustee for his
absent client, and, if he thinks that client is alive, it is his duty to
keep the estate intact; and he knows that perfectly well. We may take it
that Jellicoe is of the same opinion as I am: that John Bellingham is
dead."

"Still," I urged, "men do disappear from time to time, and turn up again
after years of absence."

"Yes, but for a definite reason. Either they are irresponsible vagabonds
who take this way of shuffling off their responsibilities, or they are
men who have been caught in a net of distasteful circumstances. For
instance, a civil servant or a solicitor or a tradesman finds himself
bound for life to a locality and an occupation of intolerable monotony.
Perhaps he has an ill-tempered wife, who, after the amiable fashion of a
certain type of woman, thinking that her husband is pinned down without
a chance of escape, gives a free rein to her temper. The man puts up
with it for years, but at last it becomes unbearable. Then he suddenly