and parcel of the scheme, Mr. Cleek?" he
queried.

"I do. And a very big part, too. But, let me qualify that statement by
saying that if it hadn't been for Borkins's desire for revenge upon the
man he served, this whole ghastly affair would probably never have been
revealed. Wynne would have vanished in the ordinary way, as Collins
vanished afterward, and the superstitious horror would have gone on until
there was not one person left in the village of Fetchworth who would have
dared to venture an investigation of the flames. Then the work at the
factory would have continued, with a possibly curtailed payroll. No need
for high-handed pirates armed with revolvers _then_. That was the end the
arch-fiend was working for. The end that never came."

"H'm. And may I ask how you discovered all this, before going into the
case of Borkins?" put in the judge.

Cleek bowed.

"Certainly," he returned. "That is the legal right. But I can vouch for
my evidence, my lord. I received it, you see, at first-hand. This man
Borkins engaged both the lad Dollops and myself as new hands for the
factory. We therefore had every opportunity of looking into the matter
personally."

"Gawdamercy! I never did!" ejaculated Borkins, at this juncture, his face
the colour of newly-baked bread. "You're a liar--that's what you are! A
drorin' an innocent man into the beastly affair. I never engaged the
likes of _you_!"

"Didn't you?" Cleek laughed soundlessly. "Look here. Remember the man
Bill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?" He writhed
his features for a moment, slipped his hand into his pocket, and
producing the black moustache that had been Dollops's envy and
admiration, stuck it upon his upper lip, pulled out a check cap from the
other pocket, drew that upon his head, and peered at Borkins under the
peak of it. "What-o, matey!" he remarked in a harsh cockney voice.

"Merciful 'Eavens!" gasped out that worthy, covering his eyes with his
hands, one more incredulous witness of Cleek's greatest gift. "Bill Jones
it is! _Gawd!_ are you a devil?"

"No, just an ordinary man, my dear friend. But you remember now, eh?
Well, that does away with the need of the moustache, then." The clerk of
the court, only too familiar with Cleek's disregard of legal formality,
frowned at this violation of dignity and raised his mace to rap for order
and possibly to reprimand Cleek for his theatrical conduct but at that
moment the detective pull