those
works in Piccadilly, and we made an interesting discovery to-day. Seeing
as the _Wire_ is an enterprising paper an' pays for news, we thought as
'ow we'd come along.'

"'Always glad to pay for information if we use it,' says Brashton.

"'We'll leave it to you,' says the spokesman, undoing the parcel. 'Look
at this.'

"Inside the wrappings was a battered but full-sized human skeleton.
Brashton was a bit staggered, but put a few more questions to the men,
and they went away. He forgot all about the skeleton till M'Gregor, the
news editor, happened in. Mac's hair stood on end, and he pointed at the
skeleton with a long forefinger.

"'What's that?' he demanded.

"Brashton looked up from some copy he was writing. 'That,' he said
calmly. 'Oh, that's not necessarily for publication; it's just a
guarantee of good faith.' And he explained.

"Mac was horror-struck. He stared at Brashton as though he had taken
leave of his senses.

"'Good God, man,' he cried, 'why did you let them leave it here? It
might have died of the plague or something.' And, stepping back into the
corridor, he yelled for a boy. 'Take that thing away,' he ordered. 'Get
rid of it. Put it in the furnace.'

"Well, they took it down and cremated it. To-day, a fine, old, crusty
police sergeant rolled up to the office. He wanted to see some one, he
said, about the find of a body in Piccadilly.

"Brashton received him suavely. 'Very good of you to come, sergeant,' he
said. 'We're always grateful for any information about matters of
interest.'

"The sergeant fidgeted with his helmet. 'That's all right, sir,' he
said. 'As a matter of fact, though, I've come to you for information
this time. You see, I'm a coroner's officer, and we've got to hold an
inquest, but we ain't got no body to hold it on!'

"For a moment Brashton was flabbergasted, but he recovered himself
almost immediately. 'I'm very sorry,' he apologised, 'but the fact is,
although we had the skeleton here it has--er--been mislaid.'

"That coroner's officer," went on Jerrold gravely, "is now looking over
the excavations to see if it's possible to find a few odds and ends to
hold the inquest on. But I see Mr. Green's getting impatient. Don't let
me keep you."

The boats had been brought up to the quay and, as the detectives stepped
aboard, slipped downstream, hugging the Embankment. Foyle turned a
speculative eye on the pier they had just quitted. A steam launch had
just brought up, b