rouded. When the ladies retired they chatted about it in the
drawingroom, but finally dropped it for more agreeable subjects. The
men, however, when the cloth Was removed, filled their glasses, and
continued the discussion with unabated vigour. Brian alone did not take
part in the conversation. He sat moodily staring at his untasted wine,
wrapped in a brown study.

"What I can't make out," observed Rolleston, who was amusing himself
with cracking nuts, "is why they did not find out who he was before."

"That is not hard to answer," said Frettlby, filling his--glass. "He
was comparatively little known here, as he had been out from England
such a short time, and I fancy that this was the only house at which he
visited."

"And look here, Rolleston," said Calton, who was sitting near him, "if
you were to find a man dead in a hansom cab, dressed in evening
clothes--which nine men out of ten are in the habit of wearing in the
evening--no cards in his pockets, and no name on his linen, I rather
think you would find it hard to discover who he was. I consider it
reflects great credit on the police for finding out so quickly."

"Puts one in mind of 'The Leavenworth Case,' and all that sort of
thing," said Felix, whose reading was of the lightest description.
"Awfully exciting, like putting a Chinese puzzle together. Gad, I
wouldn't mind being a detective myself."

"I'm afraid if that were the case," said Mr. Frettlby, with an amused
smile, "criminals would be pretty safe."

"Oh, I don't know so much about that," answered Felix, shrewdly; "some
fellows are like trifle at a party, froth on top, but something better
underneath."

"What a greedy simile," said Calton, sipping his wine; "but I'm afraid
the police will have a more difficult task in discovering the man who
committed the crime. In my opinion he's a deuced clever fellow."

"Then you don't think he will be discovered?" asked Brian, rousing
himself out of his brown study.

"Well, I don't go as far as that," rejoined Calton; "but he has
certainly left no trace behind him, and even the Red Indian, in whom
instinct for tracking is so highly developed, needs some sort of a
trail to enable him to find out his enemies. Depend upon it," went on
Calton, warming to his subject, "the man who murdered Whyte is no
ordinary criminal; the place he chose for the committal of the crime
was such a safe one."

"Do you think so?" said Rolleston. "Why, I should think that a hansom