criminal per-versities, and when not considered narrowly,
but in the light of induction and evolution--"

"At this late stage," said Michael Moon very quietly, "I may perhaps
relieve myself of a simple emotion that has been pressing me
throughout the proceedings, by saying that induction and evolution
may go and boil themselves. The Missing Link and all that is
well enough for kids, but I'm talking about things we know here.
All we know of the Missing Link is that he is missing--and he won't
be missed either. I know all about his human head and his horrid tail;
they belong to a very old game called `Heads I win, tails you lose.'
If you do find a fellow's bones, it proves he lived a long while ago;
if you don't find his bones, it proves how long ago he lived.
That is the game you've been playing with this Smith affair.
Because Smith's head is small for his shoulders you call
him microcephalous; if it had been large, you'd have called it
water-on-the-brain. As long as poor old Smith's seraglio seemed
pretty various, variety was the sign of madness: now, because it's
turning out to be a bit monochrome--now monotony is the sign of madness.
I suffer from all the disadvantages of being a grown-up person,
and I'm jolly well going to get some of the advantages too;
and with all politeness I propose not to be bullied with long words
instead of short reasons, or consider your business a triumphant
progress merely because you're always finding out that you were wrong.
Having relieved myself of these feelings, I have merely to add
that I regard Dr. Pym as an ornament to the world far more beautiful
than the Parthenon, or the monument on Bunker's Hill, and that I
propose to resume and conclude my remarks on the many marriages
of Mr. Innocent Smith.

"Besides this red hair, there is another unifying thread that
runs through these scattered incidents. There is something
very peculiar and suggestive about the names of these women.
Mr. Trip, you will remember, said he thought the typewriter's
name was Blake, but could not remember exactly.
I suggest that it might have been Black, and in that case we
have a curious series: Miss Green in Lady Bullingdon's village;
Miss Brown at the Hendon School; Miss Black at the publishers.
A chord of colours, as it were, which ends up with Miss Gray
at Beacon House, West Hampstead."

Amid a dead silence Moon continued his exposition.
"What is the meaning of this queer coincidence about colour