instance, the operation of a
telegraphic instrument. He gave to every syllable the value of a rap and
certain words he terminated with an audible snap of his teeth.

"Ah," murmured the Assistant Commissioner. "Yes. Divisional
Inspector--Somebody (I cannot read the name) has detained all the
parties. But you had better report at Vine Street. It appears to be a
big case."

He sighed wearily.

"Very good, sir. With your permission I will glance at Sir Lucien's
pedigree."

"Certainly--certainly," said the Assistant Commissioner, waving one
large hand in the direction of a bookshelf.

Kerry crossed the room, laid his oilskin and cane upon a chair, and
from the shelf where it reposed took a squat volume. The Assistant
Commissioner, hand pressed to brow, began to study a document which lay
before him.

"Here we are," said Kerry, sotto voce. "Pyne, Sir Lucien St. Aubyn,
fourth baronet, son of General Sir Christian Pyne, K.C.B. H'm! Born
Malta.... Oriel College; first in classics.... H'm. Blue.... India,
Burma.... Contested Wigan.... attached British Legation. ... H'm!..."

He returned the book to its place, took up his overall and cane, and:

"Very good, sir," he said. "I will proceed to Vine Street."

"Certainly--certainly," murmured the Assistant Commissioner, glancing up
absently. "Good night."

"Good night, sir."

"Oh, Chief Inspector!"

Kerry turned, his hand on the door-knob.

"Sir?"

"I--er--what was I going to say? Oh, yes! The social importance of
the murdered man raises the case from the--er--you follow me? Public
interest will become acute, no doubt. I have therefore selected you
for your well known discretion. I met Sir Lucien once. Very sad. Good
night."

"Good night, sir."

Kerry passed out into the corridor, closing the door quietly. The
Assistant Commissioner was a man for whom he entertained the highest
respect. Despite the bewildered air and wandering manner, he knew this
big, tired-looking soldier for an administrator of infinite capacity and
inexhaustive energy.

Proceeding to a room further along the corridor, Chief Inspector Kerry
opened the door and looked in.

"Detective-Sergeant Coombes." he snapped, and rolled chewing-gum from
side to side of his mouth.

Detective-Sergeant Coombes, a plump, short man having lank black hair
and a smile of sly contentment perpetually adorning his round face, rose
hurriedly from the chair upon which he had been seated. Another man who
was in t