formed at once, sir," the Inspector assured him, a as he
left the room.

Sir Edward Bransome was just leaving his house when Inspector Jacks
entered the gate. The latter, who knew him by sight, saluted and
hesitated for a moment.

"Did you wish to speak to me?" Sir Edward asked, drawing back from the
step of his electric brougham.

The Inspector held out his letter. Sir Edward tore it open and glanced
through the few lines which it contained. Then he looked keenly for a
moment at the man who stood respectfully by his side.

"So you are Inspector Jacks from Scotland Yard," he remarked.

"At your service, sir," the detective answered.

"You can get in with me, if you like," Sir Edward continued, motioning
toward the interior of his brougham. "I am due in Downing Street now,
but I dare say you could say what you wish to on the way there."

"Certainly, sir," Inspector Jacks answered. "It will be very good of you
indeed if you can spare me those few minutes."

The brougham glided away.

"Now, Mr. Jacks," Sir Edward said, "what can I do for you? If you want
to arrest me, I shall claim privilege."

The Inspector smiled.

"I am in charge, sir," he said, "of the investigations concerning the
murder of Mr. Hamilton Fynes and Mr. Richard Vanderpole. The news of the
reward came to us at Scotland Yard this morning. Its unusual amount led
me to make some injuries at the Home Office. I found that what I partly
expected was true. I found, sir, that your department has shown some
interest in the apprehension of these two men."

Sir Edward inclined his head slowly.

"Well?" he said.

"Sir Edward Bransome," the Inspector continued, "I have a theory of my
own as to these murders, and though it may take me some time to work it
out, I feel myself day by day growing nearer the truth. These were not
ordinary crimes. Any one can see that. They were not even crimes for
the purpose of robbery--not, that is to say, for robbery in the ordinary
sense of the word. That is apparent even to those who write for the
Press. It has been apparent to us from the first. It is beginning
to dawn upon me now what the nature of the motive must be which was
responsible for them. I have in my possession a slight, a very slight
clue. The beginning of it is there, and the end. It is the way between
which is tangled."

Sir Edward lit a cigarette and leaned back amongst the cushions. With
a little gesture he indicated his desire that Inspector Jacks