conscience isn't easy. You
know about that poor devil who fell out of a window? Well, it would
never have happened if I hadn't kicked up a row in the street. There's
no doubt he was leaning out to see what the disturbance was about when
the accident occurred."

"Did you actually see him fall?" asked Harley.

"No. He fell from a window several yards behind me in the side street,
but I heard him cry out, and as I was lugged off by the police I heard
the bell of the ambulance which came to fetch him."

He paused again and stood rubbing his head ruefully.

"H'm," said Harley; "was there anything particularly remarkable about
this man in the Lyons' cafe?"

Bampton reflected silently for some moments, and then:

"Nothing much," he confessed. "He was evidently a gentleman, wore a blue
top-coat, a dark tweed suit, and what looked like a regimental tie, but
I didn't see much of the colours. He was very tanned, as I have said,
even to the backs of his hands--and oh, yes! there was one point: He had
a gold-covered tooth."

"Which tooth?"

"I can't remember, except that it was on the left side, and I always
noticed it when he smiled."

"Did he wear any ring or pin which you would recognize?"

"No."

"Had he any oddity of speech or voice?"

"No. Just a heavy, drawling manner. He spoke like thousands of other
cultured Englishmen. But wait a minute--yes! There was one other point.
Now I come to think of it, his eyes very slightly slanted upward."

Harley stared.

"Like a Chinaman's?"

"Oh, nothing so marked as that. But the same sort of formation."

Harley nodded briskly and buttoned up his overcoat.

"Thanks, Mr. Bampton," he said; "we will detain you no longer!"

As we descended the stairs, where the smell of frying sausages had given
place to that of something burning--probably the sausages:

"I was half inclined to think that Major Ragstaff's ideas were traceable
to a former touch of the sun," said Harley. "I begin to believe that he
has put us on the track of a highly unusual crime. I am sorry to delay
dinner, Knox, but I propose to call at the Cafe Dame."

III

A CRIMINAL GENIUS

On entering the doorway of the Cafe Dame we found ourselves in a
narrow passage. In front of us was a carpeted stair, and to the right
a glass-panelled door communicating with a discreetly lighted little
dining room which seemed to be well patronized. Opening the door Harley
beckoned to a waiter, and:

"I wish to