ore or less elegant fashion as I came out of that court. Of course,
they'll say it. Why, what else could they say?"

For a moment Jessie Aylmore sat looking silently into her tea-cup. Then
she turned her eyes on Spargo, who immediately manifested a new
interest in what remained of the tea-cakes.

"Is that what you're going to say in your article tonight?" she asked,
quietly.

"No!" replied Spargo, promptly. "It isn't. I'm going to sit on the
fence tonight. Besides, the case is _sub judice_. All I'm going to do
is to tell, in my way, what took place at the inquest."

The girl impulsively put her hand across the table and laid it on
Spargo's big fist.

"Is it what you think?" she asked in a low voice.

"Honour bright, no!" exclaimed Spargo. "It isn't--it isn't! I don't
think it. I think there's a most extraordinary mystery at the bottom of
Marbury's death, and I think your father knows an enormous lot about
Marbury that he won't tell, but I'm certain sure that he neither killed
Marbury nor knows anything whatever about his death. And as I'm out to
clear this mystery up, and mean to do it, nothing'll make me more glad
than to clear your father. I say, do have some more tea-cake? We'll
have fresh ones--and fresh tea."

"No, thank you," she said smiling. "And thank you for what you've just
said. I'm going now, Mr. Spargo. You've done me good."

"Oh, rot!" exclaimed Spargo. "Nothing--nothing! I've just told you what
I'm thinking. You must go?..."

He saw her into a taxi-cab presently, and when she had gone stood
vacantly staring after the cab until a hand clapped him smartly on the
shoulder. Turning, he found Rathbury grinning at him.

"All right, Mr. Spargo, I saw you!" he said. "Well, it's a pleasant
change to squire young ladies after being all day in that court. Look
here, are you going to start your writing just now?"

"I'm not going to start my writing as you call it, until after I've
dined at seven o'clock and given myself time to digest my modest
dinner," answered Spargo. "What is it?"

"Come back with me and have another look at that blessed leather box,"
said Rathbury. "I've got it in my room, and I'd like to examine it for
myself. Come on!"

"The thing's empty," said Spargo.

"There might be a false bottom in it," remarked Rathbury. "One never
knows. Here, jump into this!"

He pushed Spargo into a passing taxi-cab, and following, bade the
driver go straight to the Yard. Arrived there, he locked S