her morbid curiosity. Her eyes opened to their
widest width when she recognised Miss Whichello's silk cloak and poke
bonnet, and saw them vanish into the dead-house.

'Well I never!' said Miss Mosk. 'I never thought she'd be fond of
corpses at her time of life, seeing as she'll soon be one herself.'

The little old lady and the inspector remained within for five or six
minutes. When they came out the tears were falling fast beneath Miss
Whichello's veil.

'Is that the man?' asked Tinkler, in a low voice.

'Yes!' replied Miss Whichello; 'that is the man I knew as Amaru.'

CHAPTER XVI

THE ZEAL OF INSPECTOR TINKLER

The strange affair of Jentham's murder continued to occupy the attention
of the Beorminster public throughout the week; and on the day when the
inquest was held, popular excitement rose to fever heat. Inspector
Tinkler, feeling that the County expected him to do great things worthy
of his reputation as a zealous officer, worked his hardest to gather
evidence likely to elucidate the mystery of the death; but in spite of
the most strenuous exertions, his efforts resulted in total failure. The
collected details proved to be of the most meagre description, and when
the coroner sat on the body nothing transpired to reveal the name, or
even indicate the identity of the assassin who had provided him with a
body to sit on. It really seemed as though the Southberry murder would
end in being relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes.

'For I can't work miracles,' explained the indignant Tinkler, when
reproached with this result, 'and somehow the case has got out of hand.
The motive for the shooting can't be got at; the pistol used ain't to be
picked up, search how you may; and as for the murdering villain who
fired it, if he ain't down below where he ought to be, I'll take my oath
as a soldier he ain't above ground. Take it how you will, this case is a
corker and no mistake.'

It had certainly occurred to Tinkler's bothered mind that Miss Whichello
should be called as a witness, if only to prove that at one time the
dead man had occupied a better position in the world, but after a short
interview with her he had abandoned this idea. Miss Whichello declared
that she could throw no light on the affair, and that she had lost sight
of the quondam violinist for over thirty years. Her recognition of him
as Amaru had been entirely due to the description of his gipsy looks
and the noticeable cicatrice on hi