walks into the highways and byways of a colony to
which he doesn't belong he doesn't survive his intrusion by many
seconds."

"Well, you know what I mean," said Breton. "London's an ant-heap, isn't
it? One human ant more or less doesn't count. This man Marbury must
have gone about a pretty tidy lot during those six hours. He'd ride on
a 'bus--almost certain. He'd get into a taxi-cab--I think that's much
more certain, because it would be a novelty to him. He'd want some
tea--anyway, he'd be sure to want a drink, and he'd turn in somewhere
to get one or the other. He'd buy things in shops--these Colonials
always do. He'd go somewhere to get his dinner. He'd--but what's the
use of enumeration in this case?"

"A mere piling up of platitudes," answered Spargo.

"What I mean is," continued Breton, "that piles of people must have
seen him, and yet it's now hours and hours since your paper came out
this morning, and nobody's come forward to tell anything. And when you
come to think of it, why should they? Who'd remember an ordinary man in
a grey tweed suit?"

"'An ordinary man in a grey tweed suit,'" repeated Spargo. "Good line.
You haven't any copyright in it, remember. It would make a good
cross-heading."

Breton laughed. "You're a queer chap, Spargo," he said. "Seriously, do
you think you're getting any nearer anything?"

"I'm getting nearer something with everything that's done," Spargo
answered. "You can't start on a business like this without evolving
something out of it, you know."

"Well," said Breton, "to me there's not so much mystery in it. Mr.
Aylmore's explained the reason why my address was found on the body;
Criedir, the stamp-man, has explained--"

Spargo suddenly looked up.

"What?" he said sharply.

"Why, the reason of Marbury's being found where he was found," replied
Breton. "Of course, I see it all! Marbury was mooning around Fleet
Street; he slipped into Middle Temple Lane, late as it was, just to see
where old Cardlestone hangs out, and he was set upon and done for. The
thing's plain to me. The only thing now is to find who did it."

"Yes, that's it," agreed Spargo. "That's it." He turned over the leaves
of the diary which lay on his desk. "By the by," he said, looking up
with some interest, "the adjourned inquest is at eleven o'clock
tomorrow morning. Are you going?"

"I shall certainly go," answered Breton. "What's more, I'm going to
take Miss Aylmore and her sister. As the gruesome deta