murder had been planned and carried out
with marvellous audacity and skill, and that was not enough.

Juve let himself into the flat and closed the door carefully behind him.
The rooms were in disorder, the result of the searches effected by the
police. The rent had not been paid for some time, and as no friend or
relation had come forward to assume control of Gurn's interests, the
furniture and ornaments of the little flat were to be sold by auction.

The detective walked through the rooms, then flung himself into an
arm-chair. He did not know precisely why he had come. He had searched
the place a dozen times already since his discovery of the corpse within
the trunk, and had found nothing more, no tell-tale marks or fresh
detail, to assist in the elucidation of the mystery. He would have given
very much to be able to identify Gurn with some other of the many
criminals who had passed through his hands, and still more to be able to
identify him with that one most mysterious criminal whose fearful deeds
had shocked the world so greatly. Somehow the particular way in which
this murder was committed, the very audacity of it, led him to think, to
"sense," almost to swear that----

Juve got up. It was little in accord with his active temperament to sit
still. Once more he went all round the flat.

"The kitchen? Let me see: I have been through everything? The stove? The
cupboards? The saucepans? Why, I went so far as to make sure that there
was no poison in them, though it seemed a wild idea. The anteroom?
Nothing there: the umbrella stand was empty, and the one interesting
thing I did see, the torn curtain, has been described and photographed
officially." He went back into the dining-room. "I've searched all the
furniture: and I went through all the parcels Gurn had done up before he
left, and would, no doubt, have come back for at his leisure, had it not
been for my discovery of the body, and the unfortunate publicity the
newspapers gave to that fact." In one corner of the room was a heap of
old newspapers, crumpled and torn, and thrown down in disorder. Juve
kicked them aside. "I've looked through all that, even read the agony
columns, but there was nothing there." He went into the bedroom and
contemplated the bed, that the concierge had stripped, the chairs set
one on top of another in a corner, and the wardrobe that stood empty,
its former contents scattered on the floor by the police during their
search. There, too,