from the others and came forward.

"We have touched nothing, sir," he announced. "When we found the man was
dead we didn't even move the body."

Willis nodded.

"Quite right, sergeant. It's murder, I suppose?"

"Looks like it, sir. The man was shot."

"Shot? Anything known of the murderer?"

"Not much, I'm afraid, sir. He got clear away in Tottenham Court Road,
as far as I can understand it. But you'll hear what the driver has to
say."

Again the Inspector nodded, as he stepped up to the vehicle.

"Here's Dr. Newman," the sergeant continued, indicating an exceedingly
dapper and well-groomed little man with medico written all over him. "He
was the nearest medical man we could get."

Willis turned courteously to the other.

"An unpleasant evening to be called out, doctor," he remarked. "The
man's dead, I understand? Was he dead when you arrived?"

"Yes, but only a very little time. The body was quite warm."

"And the cause of death?"

"Seeing that I could do nothing, I did not move the body until you
Scotland Yard gentlemen had seen it, and therefore I cannot say
professionally. But there is a small hole in the side of the coat over
the heart." The doctor spoke with a slightly consequential air.

"A bullet wound?"

"A bullet wound unquestionably."

Inspector Willis picked up an acetylene bicycle lamp which one of the
men had procured and directed its beam into the cab.

The corpse lay in the back corner seat on the driver's side, the head
lolling back sideways against the cushions and crushing into a shapeless
mass the gray Homburg hat. The mouth and eyes were open and the features
twisted as if from sudden pain. The face was long and oval, the hair and
eyes dark, and there was a tiny black mustache with waxed ends. A khaki
colored waterproof, open in front, revealed a gray tweed suit, across
the waistcoat of which shone a gold watch chain. Tan shoes covered the
feet. On the left side of the body just over the heart was a little
round hole in the waterproof coat Willis stooped and smelled the cloth.

"No blackening and no smell of burned powder," he thought. "He must have
been shot from outside the cab." But he found it hard to understand how
such a shot could have been fired from the populous streets of London.
The hole also seemed too far round towards the back of the body to
suggest that the bullet had come in through the open window. The point
was puzzling, but Willis pulled himself up sharply wi