the immediate past."

"Remain patient. Let us watch the blustering inquiries of the police,"
he laughed. "They'll make a great fuss, but will find out nothing. The
author of this crime is far too wary."

"But this man Slade?" I said. "Of late your inquiries have always been
of him. What is his connection with the affair?"

"Ah, that we have yet to discover. He may have no connection, for
aught I know. It is mere supposition, based upon a logical
conclusion."

"What motive had you in meeting this man here to-night?" I inquired,
hoping to gather some tangible clue to the reason of his erratic
movements.

"Ah! that's just the point," he responded. "If this poor fellow had
lived he would have revealed to me a secret--we should have known the
truth!"

"The truth!" I gasped. "Then at the very moment when he intended to
confess to you he has been struck down."

"Yes. His lips have been sealed by his enemy--and yours. Both are
identical," he replied, and his lips snapped together in that peculiar
manner that was his habit. I knew it was useless to question him
further.

Indeed, at that moment heavy footsteps sounded upon the stairs, and
two constables, conducted by the shuffling old man, appeared upon the
scene.

"We have sent for you," Ambler explained. "This man is dead--died
suddenly, we believe."

"Who is he, sir?" inquired the elder of the pair, bending over the
prostrate man, and taking up the smoky lamp in order to examine his
features more carefully.

"His name is Lane--a costermonger, known as Lanky Lane. The man with
you is one of his friends, and can tell you more about him than I
can."

"Is he dead?" queried the second constable, touching the thin, pallid
face.

"Certainly," I answered. "I'm a doctor, and have already made an
examination. He's been dead some time."

My name and address was taken, together with that of my companion.
When, however, Ambler told the officers his name, both were visibly
impressed. The name of Jevons was well known to the police, who held
him in something like awe as a smart criminal investigator.

"I know Inspector Barton at Leman Street--your station, I suppose?" he
added.

"Yes, sir," responded the first constable. "And begging your pardon,
sir, I'm honoured to meet you. We all heard how you beat the C. I.
Department in the Bowyer Square Mystery, and how you gave the whole
information to Sergeant Payling without taking any of the credit to
yourself. He got all