description of him very closely resembles that of
this man Federman. Of course, it's not an uncommon type, but--"

"Another of 'em!" exclaimed Allerdyke. He had suddenly remembered what
Chettle had said about the new bill being a possible death-warrant, and
the words started irrepressibly to his lips. "Good Lord!"

The chief gave him a quick glance; it seemed as if he instinctively
divined what was passing in Allerdyke's mind.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," he said, without referring to Allerdyke's
interruption, "but I'm afraid I must ask you--all of you--to run down to
this City hotel with me. We mustn't leave a stone unturned, and if any of
you can identify this man--"

"Oh, you don't want me, surely!" cried Celia. "Please let me off--I do so
hate that sort of thing!"

"Naturally," remarked the chief. "But I'm afraid I want you more than
any one, Miss Lennard--you and M. Bonnechose. Come--we'll go at
once--Blindway has gone down to get two cabs for us."

Blindway, M. Bonnechose, and Fullaway rode to the City in one cab; Celia,
Allerdyke, and the chief in another. Their journey came to an end in a
quiet old street near the Docks, and at the door of an old-fashioned
looking hotel. There was a much-worried landlord, and a detective or two,
and sundry police to meet them, and inquisitive eyes looked out of doors
and round corners as they went upstairs to a door which was guarded by
two constables. The chief turned to Celia with a word of encouragement.

"One look will answer the purpose," he said quietly. "But--look closely!"

The next moment all six were standing round a narrow bed on which was
laid out the dead body of a young man. The face, calm, composed, looked
more like that of a man who lay quietly and peacefully asleep than one
who had died under suspicious circumstances.

"Well?" asked the chief presently. "What do you say, Miss Lennard?"

Celia caught her breath.

"This--this is the man who came to Hull," she whispered. "The man, you
know, who called himself Lisette's brother. I knew him instantly."

"And you, M. Bonnechose?" said the chief. "Do you recognize him?"

The cafe-keeper, who had been making inarticulate murmurs of surprise and
grief, nodded.

"Federman!" he said. "Oh, yes, monsieur--Federman, without doubt.
Poor fellow!"

The chief turned to leave the room, saying quietly that that was all he
wished. But Fullaway, who had been staring moodily at the dead man,
suddenly stopped him. "Loo