s a vast difference, sir," said the
old gentleman. "To others it makes none--I haven't changed much, they
tell me, during the past twenty years. But I've known men change--age,
almost beyond recognition!--in five years. It depends, sir, on what
they go through."

Spargo suddenly laid aside the photographs, put his hands in his
pockets, and looked steadfastly at Mr. Quarterpage.

"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to tell you what I'm after, Mr.
Quarterpage. I'm sure you've heard all about what's known as the Middle
Temple Murder--the Marbury case?"

"Yes, I've read of it," replied Mr. Quarterpage.

"Have you read the accounts of it in my paper, the _Watchman_?" asked
Spargo.

Mr. Quarterpage shook his head.

"I've only read one newspaper, sir, since I was a young man," he
replied. "I take the _Times_, sir--we always took it, aye, even in the
days when newspapers were taxed."

"Very good," said Spargo. "But perhaps I can tell you a little more
than you've read, for I've been working up that case ever since the
body of the man known as John Marbury was found. Now, if you'll just
give me your attention, I'll tell you the whole story from that moment
until--now."

And Spargo, briefly, succinctly, re-told the story of the Marbury case
from the first instant of his own connection with it until the
discovery of the silver ticket, and Mr. Quarterpage listened in rapt
attention, nodding his head from time to time as the younger man made
his points.

"And now, Mr. Quarterpage," concluded Spargo, "this is the point I've
come to. I believe that the man who came to the Anglo-Orient Hotel as
John Marbury and who was undoubtedly murdered in Middle Temple Lane
that night, was John Maitland--I haven't a doubt about it after
learning what you tell me about the silver ticket. I've found out a
great deal that's valuable here, and I think I'm getting nearer to a
solution of the mystery. That is, of course, to find out who murdered
John Maitland, or Marbury. What you have told me about the Chamberlayne
affair has led me to think this--there may have been people, or a
person, in London, who was anxious to get Marbury, as we'll call him,
out of the way, and who somehow encountered him that night--anxious to
silence him, I mean, because of the Chamberlayne affair. And I
wondered, as there is so much mystery about him, and as he won't give
any account of himself, if this man Aylmore was really Chamberlayne.
Yes, I wondered that! But A