ot be safe until the real murderer of the poor captain
was found; and so I began to puzzle over the few clues in the
case--especially over the asters, the scarab pin and the Homburg hat.

It was then I remembered the four copies of the Daily Mail that Bray had
casually thrown into the waste-basket as of no interest. I had glanced
over his shoulder as he examined these papers, and had seen that each of
them was folded so that our favorite department--the Agony Column--was
uppermost. It happened I had in my desk copies of the Mail for the past
week. You will understand why.

I rose, found those papers, and began to read. It was then that I made
the astounding discovery to which I have alluded.

For a time after making it I was dumb with amazement, so that no course
of action came readily to mind. In the end I decided that the thing for
me to do was to wait for Bray's return in the morning and then point out
to him the error he had made in ignoring the Mail.

Bray came in about eight o'clock and a few minutes later I heard
another man ascend the stairs. I was shaving at the time, but I quickly
completed the operation and, slipping on a bathrobe, hurried up to the
captain's rooms. The younger brother had seen to the removal of the
unfortunate man's body in the night, and, aside from Bray and the
stranger who had arrived almost simultaneously with him, there was no
one but a sleepy-eyed constable there.

Bray's greeting was decidedly grouchy. The stranger, however--a tall
bronzed man--made himself known to me in the most cordial manner. He
told me he was Colonel Hughes, a close friend of the dead man; and that,
unutterably shocked and grieved, he had come to inquire whether there
was anything he might do. "Inspector," said I, "last night in this room
you held in your hand four copies of the Daily Mail. You tossed them
into that basket as of no account. May I suggest that you rescue those
copies, as I have a rather startling matter to make clear to you?"
Too grand an official to stoop to a waste-basket, he nodded to the
constable. The latter brought the papers; and, selecting one from the
lot, I spread it out on the table. "The issue of July twenty-seventh," I
said.

I pointed to an item half-way down the column of Personal Notices. You
yourself, my lady, may read it there if you happen to have saved a copy.
It ran as follows:

"RANGOON: The asters are in full bloom in the garden at Canterbury. They
are very beautiful