he great difficulty of the case was that I could discover
no motive. I could not see any way in which Mr. Jellicoe would benefit
by the disappearance. His own legacy was secure, whenever and however
the testator died. The murder and concealment apparently benefited
Hurst alone; and, in the absence of any plausible motive, the facts
required to be much more conclusive than they were."

"Did you form absolutely no opinion as to motive?" asked Mr. Jellicoe.

He put the question in a quiet, passionless tone, as if he were
discussing some _cause celebre_ in which he had nothing more than a
professional interest. Indeed, the calm, impersonal interest that he
displayed in Thorndyke's analysis, his unmoved attention, punctuated by
little nods of approval at each telling point in the argument, were the
most surprising features of this astounding interview.

"I did form an opinion," replied Thorndyke, "but it was merely
speculative, and I was never able to confirm it. I discovered that
about ten years ago Mr. Hurst had been in difficulties and that he had
suddenly raised a considerable sum of money, no one knew how or on what
security. I observed that this even coincided with the execution of
the will, and I surmised that there might be some connection between
them. But that was only a surmise; and, as the proverb has it, 'He
discovers who proves.' I could prove nothing, so that I never
discovered Mr. Jellicoe's motive, and I don't know it now."

"Don't you really?" said Mr. Jellicoe, in something approaching a tone
of animation. He laid down the end of his cigarette, and, as he
selected another from the silver case, he continued: "I think that is
the most interesting feature of your really remarkable analysis. It
does you great credit. The absence of motive would have appeared to
most persons a fatal objection to the theory, of what I may call, the
prosecution. Permit me to congratulate you on the consistency and
tenacity with which you have pursued the actual, visible facts."

He bowed stiffly to Thorndyke (who returned his bow with equal
stiffness), lighted a fresh cigarette, and once more leaned back in his
chair with the calm, attentive manner of a man who is listening to a
lecture or a musical performance.

"The evidence, then, being insufficient to act upon," Thorndyke
resumed, "there was nothing for it but to wait for some new facts.
Now, the study of a large series of carefully conducted murders brings