sic and
Liverpool man?" he said interrogatively.

The other nodded. "Yes, I suppose you've had the case turned up?"

Then, speaking very quickly, as if he wished to dismiss the subject
from his own mind, and from that of his auditors, he went on:

"Four murders of the kind were committed eight years ago--two in
Leipsic, the others, just afterwards, in Liverpool,--and there were
certain peculiarities connected with the crimes which made it clear
they were committed by the same hand. The perpetrator was caught,
fortunately for us, red-handed, just as he was leaving the house of
his last victim, for in Liverpool the murder was committed in a
house. I myself saw the unhappy man--I say unhappy, for there is
no doubt at all that he was mad"--he hesitated, and added in a
lower tone--"suffering from an acute form of religious mania.
I myself saw him, as I say, at some length. But now comes the really
interesting point. I have just been informed that a month ago this
criminal lunatic, as we must of course regard him, made his escape
from the asylum where he was confined. He arranged the whole
thing with extraordinary cunning and intelligence, and we should
probably have caught him long ago, were it not that he managed, when
on his way out of the place, to annex a considerable sum of money
in gold, with which the wages of the asylum staff were about to be
paid. It is owing to that fact that his escape was, very wrongly,
concealed--"

He stopped abruptly, as if sorry he had said so much, and a moment
later the party were walking in Indian file through the turnstile,
Sir John Burney leading the way.

Mrs. Bunting looked straight before her. She felt--so she
expressed it to her husband later--as if she had been turned to
stone.

Even had she wished to do so, she had neither the time nor the power
to warn her lodger of his danger, for Daisy and her companion were
now coming down the room, bearing straight for the Commissioner of
Police. In another moment Mrs. Bunting's lodger and Sir John Burney
were face to face.

Mr. Sleuth swerved to one side; there came a terrible change over
his pale, narrow face; it became discomposed, livid with rage and
terror.

But, to Mrs. Bunting's relief--yes, to her inexpressible relief
--Sir John Burney and his friends swept on. They passed Mr. Sleuth
and the girl by his side, unaware, or so it seemed to her, that
there was anyone else in the room but themselves.

"Hurry up, Mrs. Bunting,"