ake me tired. Have all these stunning
items of intelligence invaded your intellect only since you went to Middle
Street?"

"No, not exactly, Mr. Brett. I must admit that each one of them is your
discovery, except the fact that he is a Jap--always excepting that--but
yesterday I strung them together, so to speak."

"Ending your task by stringing Ooma, in imagination. I allow you full
credit for your sensational development--always excepting this, that I
sent you to Middle Street. Why did he kill Sir Alan? How does his Japanese
nationality elucidate an utterly useless and purposeless murder?"

"I don't know, Mr. Brett."

"Unless I am much mistaken, you will learn to-night. Holden is nearly
due."

The barrister resumed his stalk round the room. In another minute he
stopped to glance at his watch.

"Half-past seven," he murmured. "Just time to get a message through to
Whitby, and perhaps a reply."

He wrote a telegram to Hume: "Where is Fergusson? I want to see him."

"What has Fergusson got to do with the business?" asked the detective.

"Probably nothing. But he is the oldest available repository of the family
secrets. His master has told him to be explicit with me. By questioning
him, I may solve the riddle presented by Mr. Ooma. Does the name suggest
nothing to you, Winter?"

"It has a Japanese ring about it."

"Nothing Scotch? Isn't it like Hume, for instance?"

"By Jove! I never thought of that. Well, there, I give in. Ooma! Dash my
buttons, that beats cock-fighting!"

The barrister paid no heed to Winter's fall from self-importance. He
pondered deeply on the queer twist given to events by the detective's
statement. At last he took a volume from his book-case.

"Do you remember what I told you about Japanese names?" he said. "I
described to you, for instance, what strange mutations your surname would
undergo were you born in the Far East."

"Yes; I would be called Spring, Summer, etc, according to my growth."

"Then listen to this," and he read the following extract from that
excellent work, "The Mikado's Empire," by W.E. Griffis:

"It has, until recently, in Japan been the custom for every Samurai to be
named differently in babyhood, boyhood, manhood, or promotion, change of
life, or residence, in commemoration of certain events, or on account of a
vow, or from mere whim."

"What a place for aliases!" interpolated the professional.

"At the birth of a famous warrior," went on Brett, "his mother