he pointed to the swollen tongue, the eyes half out of their
sockets, bloodshot and congested, the purple, almost black, hue of the
face.

"At this point one of the spectators, more callous to horrors, peered
curiously into the dead man's face. He uttered an exclamation of
astonishment.

"'Why, surely, it's Mr. Cohen from No. 30!'

"The mention of a name familiar down the length of the street had caused
two or three other men to come forward and to look more closely into the
horribly distorted mask of the murdered man.

"'Our next-door neighbour, undoubtedly,' asserted Mr. Ellison, a young
barrister, residing at No. 31.

"'What in the world was he doing this foggy night all alone, and on
foot?' asked somebody else.

"'He usually came home very late. I fancy he belonged to some gambling
club in town. I dare say he couldn't get a cab to bring him out here.
Mind you, I don't know much about him. We only knew him to nod to.'

"'Poor beggar! it looks almost like an old-fashioned case of
garroting.'

"'Anyway, the blackguardly murderer, whoever he was, wanted to make sure
he had killed his man!' added Constable F 18, as he picked up an object
from the pavement. 'Here's the revolver, with two cartridges missing.
You gentlemen heard the report just now?'

"'He don't seem to have hit him though. The poor bloke was strangled, no
doubt.'

"'And tried to shoot at his assailant, obviously,' asserted the young
barrister with authority.

"'If he succeeded in hitting the brute, there might be a chance of
tracing the way he went.'

"'But not in the fog.'

"Soon, however, the appearance of the inspector, detective, and medical
officer, who had quickly been informed of the tragedy, put an end to
further discussion.

"The bell at No. 30 was rung, and the servants--all four of them
women--were asked to look at the body.

"Amidst tears of horror and screams of fright, they all recognized in
the murdered man their master, Mr. Aaron Cohen. He was therefore
conveyed to his own room pending the coroner's inquest.

"The police had a pretty difficult task, you will admit; there were so
very few indications to go by, and at first literally no clue.

"The inquest revealed practically nothing. Very little was known in the
neighbourhood about Mr. Aaron Cohen and his affairs. His female servants
did not even know the name or whereabouts of the various clubs he
frequented.

"He had an office in Throgmorton Street and went to bus