ing after Mr.
Jiro went out alone--"

"Where did he go to?"

"The British Museum."

"What on earth was he doing there?"

"Examining manuscripts, my assistant told me. He was particularly
interested in--let me see--it is written on a bit of paper. Here it is,
the 'Nihon Guai Shi,' the 'External History of Japan,' compiled by Rai
Sanyo, between 1806 and 1827, containing a history of each of the military
families. That is all Greek to me, but my man got the librarian to jot it
down for him."

"Your man has brains. What were you going to say when I interrupted you?"

"Only this. No fat companion appeared to day, so I called at No. 17 St.
John's Mansions in my favourite character as an old clo' man."

The barrister expressed extravagant admiration in dumb show, but this did
not deceive the detective, who, for some reason, was downcast.

"I saw Mrs. Jiro, and knew in an instant that she was the stout gentleman
who left her husband at Piccadilly Circus yesterday. I was that annoyed I
could hardly do a deal. However, here they are."

He began to unfasten the string which fastened the brown paper parcel.

"Here are what?" cried Brett.

"Mrs. Jiro's coat, and trousers, and waistcoat," replied Winter
desperately. "She doesn't want 'em any more; sold 'em for a song--glad to
be rid of 'em, in fact."

He unfolded a suit of huge dimensions, surveying each garment ruefully, as
though reproaching it personally for the manner in which it had deceived
him.

Then Brett sat down and enjoyed a burst of Homeric laughter.

CHAPTER XIX

THE THIRD MAN APPEARS

The Rev. Wilberforce Layton raised no objection to his daughter's
excursion to London with Mrs. Capella. Indeed, he promised to meet them in
Whitby a week later, and remain there during August. Mrs. Eastham pleaded
age and the school treat.

It was, therefore, a comparatively youthful party which Brett joined at
dinner in one of the great hotels in Northumberland Avenue.

Someone had exercised rare discretion in ordering a special meal; the
wines were good, and two at least of the company merry as emancipated
school children.

The barrister soon received ample confirmation of the discovery made by
the Stowmarket waiter.

Robert Hume-Frazer was undoubtedly in love with his cousin, or, to speak
correctly, for the ex-sailor was a gentleman, he had been in love with her
as a boy, and now secretly grieved over a hopeless passion.

Whether Margaret was conscio