ow"
Gregory, who had been found shot in the streets of London, was a Balliol
man who had left Oxford in that year. It was certain that it was a
relative of "Snow" Gregory who was called Jack o' Judgment and who had
taken upon himself the task of avenging the man's death.

What was "Snow" Gregory's real name? If he could find that, he might
find Jack o' Judgment.

Slowly, as though with a sense that the great discovery was imminent, he
tore open the letter and pulled out the three foolscap pages, which,
with a covering note, constituted the contents. There were two lists of
names of graduates who had passed out in the year which, if "Snow"
Gregory spoke the truth in a moment of unusual confidence, was the year
of his leaving.

The colonel's finger traced the lines one by one and he finished the
first list without discovering a name which was familiar. He was half
way through the second list when he stopped and his finger jumped. For
fully three minutes he sat glaring at the paper open-mouthed. Then:

"Merciful God!" he whispered.

He sat there for the greater part of an hour, his chin on his hand, his
eyes glued to the name. And all the time his active mind was running
back through the years, piecing together the evidence which enabled him
to identify, without any shadow of doubt, Jack o' Judgment.

He rose and went to his bookcase and took down volume after volume. They
were mostly reference books, and for some time he searched in vain. Then
he found a Year Book which gave him the data he wanted, and he brought
it back to the table and scribbled a few notes. These he read through
and carefully burnt.

He finished his labours with a bright look in his eye and strutted into
his bedroom ten years younger in appearance than he had been that
afternoon. He put out all the lights and sat for a little while in the
shadow of the curtain, watching the street from the open window. At the
corner of the block a Salvation Army meeting was in progress, and he was
surprised that he had not noticed the fact, although this practice of
the Salvationists holding meetings near his flat had before now driven
him to utter distraction.

Very keenly he scrutinised the street for some sign of a lurking figure,
and once saw a man walk past under the light of a street lamp and melt
into the shadow of a doorway on the opposite side of the road. He went
into his bedroom and brought back a pair of night glasses, and focused
them upon the fi