confidence."

"Indeed he could, and probably would. My 'confidence' would have
involved a charge of murder against a highly respectable gentleman who
was well known to him. He would probably have referred me to the police,
and then what could I have done? I had plenty of suspicions, but not a
single solid fact."

Our discussion was here interrupted by hurried footsteps on the stairs
and a thundering rat-tat on our knocker.

As Jervis opened the door, Inspector Badger burst into the room in a
highly excited state.

"What is all this, Doctor Thorndyke?" he asked. "I see you've sworn an
information against Mr. Jellicoe, and I have a warrant to arrest him;
but before anything is done I think it right to tell you that we have
more evidence than is generally known pointing to quite a different
quarter."

"Derived from Mr. Jellicoe's information," said Thorndyke. "But the fact
is that I have just examined and identified the body at the British
Museum, where it was deposited by Mr. Jellicoe. I don't say that he
murdered John Bellingham--though that is what the appearances
suggest--but I do say that he will have to account for his secret
disposal of the body."

Inspector Badger was thunderstruck. Also he was visibly annoyed. The
salt which Mr. Jellicoe had so adroitly sprinkled on the constabulary
tail appeared to develop irritating properties, for when Thorndyke had
given him a brief outline of the facts he stuck his hands in his pockets
and exclaimed gloomily:

"Well, I'm hanged! And to think of all the time and trouble I've spent
on those damned bones! I suppose they were just a plant?"

"Don't let us disparage them," said Thorndyke. "They have played a
useful part. They represent the inevitable mistake that every criminal
makes sooner or later. The murderer will always do a little too much. If
he would only lie low and let well alone, the detective might whistle
for a clue. But it is time we were starting."

"Are we all going?" asked the inspector, looking at me in particular
with no very gracious recognition.

"We will all come with you," said Thorndyke; "but you will, naturally,
make the arrest in the way that seems best to you."

"It's a regular procession," grumbled the inspector; but he made no more
definite objection, and we started forth on our quest.

The distance from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn is not great. In five
minutes we were at the gateway in Chancery Lane, and a couple of minutes
later saw