spruce and his eyes were as bright, as though he had slept well, enjoyed
his bath and partaken of an excellent breakfast. Whereas he had not
been to bed during the preceding twenty-four hours, had breakfasted
upon biscuits and coffee, and had spent the night and early morning in
ceaseless toil. Nevertheless he had found time to visit a hairdressing
saloon, for he prided himself upon the nicety of his personal
appearance.

He laid his hat, cane and overall upon a chair, and from a pocket of his
reefer jacket took out a big notebook.

"Good morning, sir," he said.

"Good morning, Chief Inspector," replied the Assistant Commissioner.
"Pray be seated. No doubt"--he suppressed a weary sigh--"you have a long
report to make. I observe that some of the papers have the news of Sir
Lucien Pyne's death."

Chief Inspector Kerry smiled savagely.

"Twenty pressmen are sitting downstairs," he said "waiting for
particulars. One of them got into my room." He opened his notebook. "He
didn't stay long."

The Assistant Commissioner gazed wearily at his blotting-pad, striking
imaginary chords upon the table-edge with his large widely extended
fingers. He cleared his throat.

"Er--Chief Inspector," he said, "I fully recognize the difficulties
which--you follow me? But the Press is the Press. Neither you nor I
could hope to battle against such an institution even if we desired
to do so. Where active resistance is useless, a little tact--you quite
understand?"

"Quite, sir. Rely upon me," replied Kerry. "But I didn't mean to open
my mouth until I had reported to you. Now, sir, here is a precis of
evidence, nearly complete, written out clearly by Sergeant Coombes. You
would probably prefer to read it?"

"Yes, yes, I will read it. But has Sergeant Coombes been on duty all
night?"

"He has, sir, and so have I. Sergeant Coombes went home an hour ago."

"Ah," murmured the Assistant Commissioner

He took the notebook from Kerry, and resting his head upon his hand
began to read. Kerry sat very upright in his chair, chewing slowly and
watching the profile of the reader with his unwavering steel-blue
eyes. The reading was twice punctuated by telephone messages, but the
Assistant Commissioner apparently possessed the Napoleonic faculty of
doing two things at once, for his gaze travelled uninterruptedly along
the lines of the report throughout the time that he issued telephonic
instructions.

When he had arrived at the final page of Co