. etc'. Had the landlord of that
hotel heard of the disappearance of Kershaw through the usual channels,
he would have put himself in communication with the police. Sir Arthur
Inglewood produced him. How did Sir Arthur Inglewood come on his track?"

"Surely, you don't mean?"

"Point number four," he resumed imperturbably, "Mrs. Kershaw was never
requested to produce a specimen of her husband's handwriting. Why?
Because the police, clever as you say they are, never started on the
right tack. They believed William Kershaw to have been murdered; they
looked for William Kershaw.

"On December the 31st, what was presumed to be the body of William
Kershaw was found by two lightermen: I have shown you a photograph of
the place where it was found. Dark and deserted it is in all conscience,
is it not? Just the place where a bully and a coward would decoy an
unsuspecting stranger, murder him first, then rob him of his valuables,
his papers, his very identity, and leave him there to rot. The body was
found in a disused barge which had been moored some time against the
wall, at the foot of these steps. It was in the last stages of
decomposition, and, of course, could not be identified; but the police
would have it that it was the body of William Kershaw.

"It never entered their heads that it was the body of _Francis
Smethurst, and that William Kershaw was his murderer_.

"Ah! it was cleverly, artistically conceived! Kershaw is a genius. Think
of it all! His disguise! Kershaw had a shaggy beard, hair, and
moustache. He shaved up to his very eyebrows! No wonder that even his
wife did not recognize him across the court; and remember she never saw
much of his face while he stood in the dock. Kershaw was shabby,
slouchy, he stooped. Smethurst, the millionaire, might have served in
the Prussian army.

"Then that lovely trait about going to revisit the Torriani Hotel. Just
a few days' grace, in order to purchase moustache and beard and wig,
exactly similar to what he had himself shaved off. Making up to look
like himself! Splendid! Then leaving the pocket-book behind! He! he! he!
Kershaw was not murdered! Of course not. He called at the Torriani Hotel
six days after the murder, whilst Mr. Smethurst, the millionaire,
hobnobbed in the park with duchesses! Hang such a man! Fie!"

He fumbled for his hat. With nervous, trembling fingers he held it
deferentially in his hand whilst he rose from the table. Polly watched
him as he strode