the backs of a row of tall
buildings similar to the one we were in. They were about thirty yards
distant, and were separated from us by a piece of ground, planted with
shrubs and intersected by gravel paths.

"If any of those rooms were occupied last night," continued Thorndyke,
"we might obtain an actual eyewitness of the crime. This room was
brilliantly lighted, and all the blinds were up, so that an observer at
any of those windows could see right into the room, and very distinctly,
too. It might be worth inquiring into."

"Yes, that's true," said the inspector; "though I expect, if any of them
have seen anything, they will come forward quick enough when they read
the report in the papers. But I must be off now, and I shall have to
lock you out of the rooms."

As we went down the stairs, Mr. Marchmont announced his intention of
calling on us in the evening, "unless," he added, "you want any
information from me now."

"I do," said Thorndyke. "I want to know who is interested in this man's
death."

"That," replied Marchmont, "is rather a queer story. Let us take a turn
in that garden that we saw from the window. We shall be quite private
there."

He beckoned to Mr. Curtis, and, when the inspector had departed with the
police-surgeon, we induced the porter to let us into the garden.

"The question that you asked," Mr. Marchmont began, looking up curiously
at the tall houses opposite, "is very simply answered. The only person
immediately interested in the death of Alfred Hartridge is his executor
and sole legatee, a man named Leonard Wolfe. He is no relation of the
deceased, merely a friend, but he inherits the entire estate--about
twenty thousand pounds. The circumstances are these: Alfred Hartridge
was the elder of two brothers, of whom the younger, Charles, died before
his father, leaving a widow and three children. Fifteen years ago the
father died, leaving the whole of his property to Alfred, with the
understanding that he should support his brother's family and make the
children his heirs."

"Was there no will?" asked Thorndyke.

"Under great pressure from the friends of his son's widow, the old man
made a will shortly before he died; but he was then very old and rather
childish, so the will was contested by Alfred, on the grounds of undue
influence, and was ultimately set aside. Since then Alfred Hartridge has
not paid a penny towards the support of his brother's family. If it had
not been for my clien