p of grey cloth appeared to have been
newly purchased at a fashionable shop in the West End.

Spargo went home; there seemed to be nothing to stop for. He ate his
food and he went to bed, only to do poor things in the way of sleeping.
He was not the sort to be impressed by horrors, but he recognized at
last that the morning's event had destroyed his chance of rest; he
accordingly rose, took a cold bath, drank a cup of coffee, and went
out. He was not sure of any particular idea when he strolled away from
Bloomsbury, but it did not surprise him when, half an hour later he
found that he had walked down to the police station near which the
unknown man's body lay in the mortuary. And there he met Driscoll, just
going off duty. Driscoll grinned at sight of him.

"You're in luck," he said. "'Tisn't five minutes since they found a bit
of grey writing paper crumpled up in the poor man's waistcoat
pocket--it had slipped into a crack. Come in, and you'll see it."

Spargo went into the inspector's office. In another minute he found
himself staring at the scrap of paper. There was nothing on it but an
address, scrawled in pencil:--Ronald Breton, Barrister, King's Bench
Walk, Temple, London.

CHAPTER TWO

HIS FIRST BRIEF

Spargo looked up at the inspector with a quick jerk of his head. "I
know this man," he said.

The inspector showed new interest.

"What, Mr. Breton?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm on the _Watchman_, you know, sub-editor. I took an article
from him the other day--article on 'Ideal Sites for Campers-Out.' He
came to the office about it. So this was in the dead man's pocket?"

"Found in a hole in his pocket, I understand: I wasn't present myself.
It's not much, but it may afford some clue to identity."

Spargo picked up the scrap of grey paper and looked closely at it. It
seemed to him to be the sort of paper that is found in hotels and in
clubs; it had been torn roughly from the sheet.

"What," he asked meditatively, "what will you do about getting this man
identified?"

The inspector shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, usual thing, I suppose. There'll be publicity, you know. I suppose
you'll be doing a special account yourself, for your paper, eh? Then
there'll be the others. And we shall put out the usual notice. Somebody
will come forward to identify--sure to. And--"

A man came into the office--a stolid-faced, quiet-mannered, soberly
attired person, who might have been a respectable tradesman out for