more about him. You
see, Mr. Allerdyke, there's one thing very certain--so far as we've
ascertained at present, nobody but Fullaway, and possibly whoever's in
his employ, was acquainted with the fact that your cousin was carrying
those jewels from Russia to England. Nobody in this country, at any rate.
And--it's a thing of serious importance, sir."

Just what Appleyard had said!--what, indeed, no one of discernment could
help saying, thought Allerdyke. The sole knowledge, of course, was with
Fullaway and his lady clerk--so far as was known. Therefore--

"Just so," he said aloud. "I see your point--of course, I've already seen
it. Well, what are we going to do--now? You've brought me down here for
something special, no doubt."

"Quite so, sir," answered Chettle composedly. "I want to draw your
attention to some very special features and to ask you certain questions
arising out of 'em. We'll take things in order, Mr. Allerdyke. We're
driving now to the High Street--I want to show you the exact spot where
Lydenberg was shot dead. After that we'll go to the police-station and
I'll show you two or three little matters, and we'll have a talk about
them. And now, before we get to the High Street, I may as well tell you
that on examining Lydenberg's body very little was found in the way of
papers--scarcely anything, and nothing connecting him with your cousin's
affair--in fact, the police here say they never saw a foreign gentleman
with less on him in that way. But in the inside pocket of his overcoat
there was a postcard, which had been posted here in Hull. Here it
is--and you'll see that it was the cause of taking him to the spot where
he was shot."

Chettle took from an old letter-case an innocent-looking postcard, on one
corner of which was a stain.

"His blood," he remarked laconically. "He was shot clean through the
heart. Well, you see, it's a mere line."

Allerdyke took the card and looked at it with a mingled feeling of
repulsion and fascination. The writing on it was thin, angular, upright,
and it suggested foreign origin. And the communication was brief--and
unsigned--

"High Street morning eleven sharp left-hand side old houses."

"You don't recognize that handwriting, of course, Mr. Allerdyke?" asked
Chettle. "Never seen it before, I suppose?"

"No!" replied Allerdyke. "Never. But I should say it's a foreigner's."

"Very likely," assented Chettle. "Aye, well, sir, it lured the man to his
death. And now