s face; and she pointed out to Tinkler
that she had not seen the so-called Jentham till after his death;
moreover, it was unlikely that events which had occurred thirty years
before could have resulted in the man's violent death at the present
time; and Miss Whichello insisted that she knew nothing of the
creature's later circumstances or acquaintances. Being thus ignorant, it
was not to be expected that her evidence would be of any value, so at
her earnest request Tinkler held his tongue, and forebore to summon her
as a witness. Miss Whichello was greatly relieved in her own mind when
the inspector came to this conclusion, but she did not let Tinkler see
her relief.

From Mosk, the officer had learned that the vagabond who called himself
Jentham had appeared at The Derby Winner some three weeks previous to
the time of his death. He had given no information as to where he had
last rested, but, so far as Mosk knew, had dropped down from the sky.
Certainly his conversation when he was intoxicated showed that he had
travelled a great deal, and that his past was concerned with robbery,
and bloodshed, and lawlessness; but the man had talked generally as any
traveller might, had refrained from mentioning names, and altogether had
spoken so loosely that nothing likely to lead to a tangible result could
be gathered from his rambling discourses. He had paid his board and
lodging for the first week, but thereafter had lived on credit, and at
the time of his death had owed Mosk over two pounds, principally for
strong drink. Usually he slept at The Derby Winner and loafed about the
streets all day, but at times he went over to the gipsy camp near
Southberry and fraternised with the Romany. This was the gist of Mosk's
information, but he added, as an afterthought, that Jentham had promised
to pay him when certain monies which he expected came into his
possession.

'Who was going to pay him this money?' asked Tinkler, pricking up his
ears.

'Carn't y'arsk me somethin' easier?' growled Mosk; 'how should I know?
He said he was goin' to get the dibs, but who from, or where from, I
dunno', for he held his tongue so far.'

'There was no money in the pockets of the clothes worn by the body,'
said Tinkler, musingly.

'I dessay not, Mr Inspector. I don't b'lieve the cove was expecting any
money, I don't. 'Twas all moonshine--his talk, to make me trust him for
bed and grub, and a blamed fool I've bin doin' so,' grumbled Mosk.

'The po