morrow, for a certainty, Jiro would dispose of the Remington which he
now possessed. Well, he should meet with a ready purchaser, if a letter
from Brett to every agency in London would expedite matters.

He did not credit Jiro with the death of Sir Alan Hume-Frazer, nor even
with complicity in the crime. The Japanese had acted as the unwitting tool
of a stronger personality, and the little man's brain was even at this
moment considering fresh aspects of the affair not previously within his
ken.

Moreover, how maddening the whole thing was! Beginning with Hume's
fantastic dream, he reviewed the hitherto unknown elements in the
case--Capella's fierce passion and queer behaviour, culminating in a
sudden journey to Italy, Margaret's silent agony, the existence of an
Argentine cousin, the evidence of "Rabbit Jack," the punning motto on the
Ko-Katana, Jiro's perturbation and desire to prevent his wife's
unconscious disclosures.

With the final item came the ludicrous remembrance of that ill-assorted
couple. Laughing, Brett hailed a hansom.

CHAPTER XII

WHAT THE STATIONMASTER SAW

The number of type-writer exchanges in London is not large. Impressing the
services of Smith and his wife as amanuenses, Brett despatched the
requisite letters before he retired for the night.

He was up betimes and out before breakfast, surprising the domestics of
his club by an early visit to the library. The Etona contained a great
many service members, and made a feature of its complete editions of Army
and Navy lists.

In one of the latter, eight years old, Brett found, among the officers of
the _Northumberland_, at that time in commission, "Robert Hume-Fraser,
sub-lieutenant." A later volume recorded his retirement from the service.

Hume and Winter reached Brett's flat together.

"Any luck with the Jap, sir?" asked the detective cheerily.

Brett told them what had happened, and Winter sighed. Here, indeed, was a
promising subject for an arrest. Why not lock him up, and seize the
type-writer? But he knew the barrister by this time, and uttered no word.

"And now," said Brett, after a malicious pause to enable Winter to declare
himself, "I am going back to Stowmarket. No, Hume, you are not coming with
me. When does Fergusson arrive here?"

The question drove from David's face the disappointed look with which he
received his friend's announcement.

"To-morrow evening," he replied. "My father thinks the old man should not