out much
difficulty."

"How?" Greig eyed his superior in mingled admiration and incredulity.

From the inside pocket of his coat Britz produced a photograph.

"I found this in Whitmore's house," he said. "It is a photograph of
Whitmore, a recent one. You will observe that the mustache he wears is a
heavy one. It is much thicker than the one we saw as we examined his
body to-day. Between the time he had this photograph taken and his
return to his business, he must have had the mustache shaved off. It is
more than probable that he was clean-shaven during his absence, or up to
about two weeks ago. Then, in order not to emphasize his altered
appearance when he came back, he permitted the mustache to grow again."

"But what does all this mean?" inquired Greig.

"It means that Whitmore was not away on a business trip," answered
Britz. "The statement of Beard to visitors at the office was a blind.
Business men don't shave off their mustaches when starting on a business
trip. No, Whitmore was away on a matter intimately associated with his
murder. And, by means of the photograph we shall discover where he was
and what he did. We've put in a hard day's work, Greig," added Britz,
replacing the photograph in his pocket, "and a good night's rest will do
us good. I shall be at my desk promptly at eight to-morrow morning and
then we'll proceed with the investigation."

CHAPTER VIII

Although Britz permitted his assistant to find welcome rest after the
crowded activities of the day, he did not allow himself the same
pleasant relaxation. He felt no craving for sleep. His faculties were
too tensely alert for slumber, an inexhaustible spring of energy kept
him fresh and active. There were certain channels in this mysterious
case which had thus far been entirely neglected. It was necessary to
explore them at once, lest they vanish overnight.

Britz proceeded to the Night Court, where he found the Magistrate
dispensing justice with the bored impatience of one grown tired of
hearing the monotonous repetition of trite excuses.

Accustomed as he had grown to contact with vice and crime, Britz
invariably entered this courtroom with a feeling of depression. There is
little enough romance attached to crime. In the Night Court, where vice
is on continuous parade and crime only an occasional visitor, the
spectacle one beholds is repulsive to the last degree.

Passing down the long aisle between the spectators' seats, Britz enter