ved no news during those three days?
Would Hilliard agree to a further postponement? He feared not, and he
was racked with anxiety as to whether he should cross that day to France
and seek another interview with Mr. Coburn.

But, even as he sat with the morning paper in his hand, news was nearer
than he imagined. Listlessly he turned over the sheets, glancing with
but scant attention to the headlines, automatically running his eyes
over the paragraphs. And when he came to one headed "Mystery of a
Taxi-cab," he absent-mindedly began to read it also.

But he had not gone very far when his manner changed. Starting to his
feet, he stared at the column with horror-stricken eyes, while his face
grew pallid and his pipe dropped to the floor from his open mouth. With
the newspaper still tightly grasped in his hand, he ran three steps at
a time down the stairs of his flat, and calling a taxi, was driven to
Scotland Yard.

PART TWO. THE PROFESSIONALS

CHAPTER 12. MURDER!

Almost exactly fifteen hours before Merriman's call at Scotland Yard,
to wit, about eight o'clock on the previous evening, Inspector Willis of
the Criminal Investigation Department was smoking in the sitting-room of
his tiny house in Brixton. George Willis was a tall, somewhat burly man
of five-and-forty, with heavy, clean-shaven, expressionless features
which would have made his face almost stupid, had it not been redeemed
by a pair of the keenest of blue eyes. He was what is commonly known
as a safe man, not exactly brilliant, but plodding and tenacious to an
extraordinary degree. His forte was slight clues, and he possessed that
infinite capacity for taking pains which made his following up of them
approximate to genius. In short, though a trifle slow, he was already
looked on as one of the most efficient and reliable inspectors of the
Yard.

He had had a heavy day, and it was with a sigh of relief that he
picked up the evening paper and stretched himself luxuriously in his
easy-chair. But he was not destined to enjoy a long rest. Hardly had he
settled himself to his satisfaction when the telephone bell rang. He was
wanted back at the Yard immediately.

He swore under his breath, then, calling the news to his wife, he
slipped on his waterproof and left the house. The long spell of fine
weather had at last broken, and the evening was unpleasant, indeed
unusually inclement for mid-September. All day the wind had been gusty
and boisterous, a