irst,
sir, I'll just look in a little later and find you at the private bar."

I followed the prudent suggestion, and was presently joined by the
inspector, who appeared relieved at finding himself shut in and alone
with me.

We had whisky and soda _ad libitum_, and then I cautiously began:
"The fact is, inspector," I said, "I was particularly anxious for this
chance of a little friendly chat with you. I have certain suspicions
which may be, of course, without a grain of foundation. What I mean to
say is, I have grave fears that the murdered man is the friend I thought
it possible I might identify. Who the murderer may be in any case
remains to be seen, but if the body is that of the person I have in my
mind, I might be able to put a clue into the hands of the police. 'A
word to the wise,' you know, inspector! But first I am hoping for a
little help from you before I run the risk of incriminating one who may
be innocent. Quite between ourselves, allow me to ask what your police
surgeon has had to say regarding his examination?"

The inspector looked dubious, then brightened visibly. "You being the
man you are, Mr. Stanton," he said, sociably, over his third glass of
old Scotch, "I can't see that there'd be anything amiss in my answering
you so far. Our surgeon, Mr. Potter, reported that the corpse was that
of a well-nourished man of somewhere between forty and forty-five years
of age, all the organs healthy, though there were traces of opium in the
system--not, however, enough to have caused death. The head had been
severed from the neck by a skilled anatomist, who knew exactly where to
strike; but it had been separated after death, not before. Also the
mutilation of the left hand had been done in the same way. I suppose
that is roughly the sort of thing you wanted to know?"

"Exactly," I returned, "and every detail you have mentioned goes to
strengthen my suspicions. Being an amateur, I was obliged to judge
principally by size and height. The surgeon's report fits in with my
theory precisely. Still, it does not comprise everything. It would be a
great assistance if I might know whether the police have yet had any
reliable information to work upon."

We had grown very friendly, indeed, almost fraternal now, and the
inspector kindly allowed me to refill his glass. "Do you know who Mr.
Carson Wildred, of the House by the Lock, is, Mr. Stanton?" he enquired,
confidentially.

The question surprised and excited me. Wa