iness every day.
He dined at home, and sometimes had friends to dinner. When he was alone
he invariably went to the club, where he stayed until the small hours of
the morning.

"The night of the murder he had gone out at about nine o'clock. That was
the last his servants had seen of him. With regard to the revolver, all
four servants swore positively that they had never seen it before, and
that, unless Mr. Cohen had bought it that very day, it did not belong to
their master.

"Beyond that, no trace whatever of the murderer had been found, but on
the morning after the crime a couple of keys linked together by a short
metal chain were found close to a gate at the opposite end of the
Square, that which immediately faced Portland Place. These were proved
to be, firstly, Mr. Cohen's latch-key, and, secondly, his gate-key of
the Square.

"It was therefore presumed that the murderer, having accomplished his
fell design and ransacked his victim's pockets, had found the keys and
made good his escape by slipping into the Square, cutting under the
tunnel, and out again by the further gate. He then took the precaution
not to carry the keys with him any further, but threw them away and
disappeared in the fog.

"The jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or
persons unknown, and the police were put on their mettle to discover the
unknown and daring murderer. The result of their investigations,
conducted with marvellous skill by Mr. William Fisher, led, about a week
after the crime, to the sensational arrest of one of London's smartest
young bucks.

"The case Mr. Fisher had got up against the accused briefly amounted to
this:

"On the night of February 6th, soon after midnight, play began to run
very high at the Harewood Club, in Hanover Square. Mr. Aaron Cohen held
the bank at roulette against some twenty or thirty of his friends,
mostly young fellows with no wits and plenty of money. 'The Bank' was
winning heavily, and it appears that this was the third consecutive
night on which Mr. Aaron Cohen had gone home richer by several hundreds
than he had been at the start of play.

"Young John Ashley, who is the son of a very worthy county gentleman who
is M.F.H. somewhere in the Midlands, was losing heavily, and in his case
also it appears that it was the third consecutive night that Fortune
had turned her face against him.

"Remember," continued the man in the corner, "that when I tell you all
these detai