unturned in the pursuit of a criminal; no detail, however trifling,
uncared for. No more should we in the present instance overlook the
minutest bit of evidence, however irrelevant and absurd at first blush it
may appear to be. The truth of what I say was very effectually proven in
the strange case of the Brokedale tiara, in which I figured somewhat
conspicuously, but which I have never made public, because it involves a
secret affecting the integrity of one of the noblest families in the
British Empire. I really believe that mystery was solved easily and at
once because I happened to remember that the number of my watch was
86507B. How trivial a thing, and yet how important it was, as the event
transpired, you will realize when I tell you the incident."

The stranger's manner was so impressive that there was a unanimous and
simultaneous movement upon the part of all present to get up closer, so as
the more readily to hear what he said, as a result of which poor old
Boswell was pushed overboard, and fell with a loud splash into the Styx.
Fortunately, however, one of Charon's pleasure-boats was close at hand,
and in a short while the dripping, sputtering spirit was drawn into it,
wrung out, and sent home to dry. The excitement attending this diversion
having subsided, Solomon asked:

"What was the incident of the lost tiara?"

[Illustration: "POOR OLD BOSWELL WAS PUSHED OVERBOARD"]

"I am about to tell you," returned the stranger; "and it must be
understood that you are told in the strictest confidence, for, as I say,
the incident involves a state secret of great magnitude. In life--in the
mortal life--gentlemen, I was a detective by profession, and, if I do say
it, who perhaps should not, I was one of the most interesting for purely
literary purposes that has ever been known. I did not find it necessary to
go about saying 'Ha! ha!' as M. Le Coq was accustomed to do to advertise
his cleverness; neither did I disguise myself as a drum-major and hide
under a kitchen-table for the purpose of solving a mystery involving the
abduction of a parlor stove, after the manner of the talented Hawkshaw. By
mental concentration alone, without fireworks or orchestral accompaniment
of any sort whatsoever, did I go about my business, and for that very
reason many of my fellow-sleuths were forced to go out of real detective
work into that line of the business with which the stage has familiarized
the most of us--a line in which nothing