there beside its dead owner. A gold-mounted malacca cane also figured
amongst the relics of the gruesome crime; so that whatever had been
the object of the murderer, that of robbery was out of the question.

"The next thing to do," said Gatton, "is to trace Sir Marcus's
movements from the time that he left home last night to the time that
he met his death. I am going out now to 'phone to the Yard. We ought
to have succeeded in tracing the carter who brought the crate here
before the evening. I personally shall proceed to Sir Marcus's rooms
and then to this Red House around which it seems to me that the
mystery centers."

He put the enamel figure into his pocket and taking up the broken
board which bore the painted cat:

"You are carrying a top-coat," he said. "Hide this under it!"

He turned to Inspector Heath, nodding shortly.

"All right," he said, with a grim smile, "go out now and talk to the
crowd!"

Having issued certain telephonic instructions touching the carter who
had delivered the crate to the docks, and then imparting to the
representatives of the press a guarded statement for publication,
Inspector Gatton succeeded in wedging himself into my little
two-seater and ere long we were lurching and bumping along the
ill-paved East-end streets.

The late Sir Marcus's London address, which had been unknown to me, we
had learned from his cards, and it was with the keenest anticipation
of a notable discovery that I presently found myself with Gatton
mounting the stairs to the chambers of the murdered baronet.

At the very moment of our arrival the door was opened and a man--quite
obviously a constable in plain clothes--came out. Behind him I
observed one whom I took to be the late Sir Marcus's servant, a
pathetic and somewhat disheveled figure.

"Hello, Blythe!" said Gatton, "who instructed you to come here?"

"Sir Marcus's man--Morris--telephoned the Yard," was the reply, "as he
couldn't understand what had become of his master and I was sent along
to see him."

"Oh," said Gatton, "very good. Report to me in due course."

Blythe departed, and Gatton and I entered the hall. The man, Morris,
closed the door, and led us into a small library. Beside the telephone
stood a tray bearing decanter and glasses, and there was evidence that
Morris had partaken of a hurried breakfast consisting only of biscuits
and whisky and soda.

"I haven't been to bed all night, gentlemen," he began the moment that
we enter