ylmore's a tall, finely-built man, quite six
feet in height, and his beard, though it's now getting grizzled, has
been very dark, and Chamberlayne, you say, was a medium-sized, fair
man, with blue eyes."

"That's so, sir," assented Mr. Quarterpage. "Yes, a middling-sized man,
and fair--very fair. Deary me, Mr. Spargo!--this is a revelation. And
you really think, sir, that John Maitland and John Marbury are one and
the same person?"

"I'm sure of it, now," said Spargo. "I see it in this way. Maitland, on
his release, went out to Australia, and there he stopped. At last he
comes back, evidently well-to-do. He's murdered the very day of his
arrival. Aylmore is the only man who knows anything of him--Aylmore
won't tell all he knows; that's flat. But Aylmore's admitted that he
knew him at some vague date, say from twenty-one to twenty-two or three
years ago. Now, where did Aylmore know him? He says in London. That's a
vague term. He won't say where--he won't say anything definite--he
won't even say what he, Aylmore, himself was in those days. Do you
recollect anything of anybody like Aylmore coming here to see Maitland,
Mr. Quarterpage?"

"I don't," answered Mr. Quarterpage. "Maitland was a very quiet,
retiring fellow, sir: he was about the quietest man in the town. I
never remember that he had visitors; certainly I've no recollection of
such a friend of his as this Aylmore, from your description of him,
would be at that time."

"Did Maitland go up to London much in those days?" asked Spargo.

Mr. Quarterpage laughed.

"Well, now, to show you what a good memory I have," he said, "I'll tell
you of something that occurred across there at the 'Dragon' only a few
months before the Maitland affair came out. There were some of us in
there one evening, and, for a rare thing, Maitland came in with
Chamberlayne. Chamberlayne happened to remark that he was going up to
town next day--he was always to and fro--and we got talking about
London. And Maitland said in course of conversation, that he believed
he was about the only man of his age in England--and, of course, he
meant of his class and means--who'd never even seen London! And I don't
think he ever went there between that time and his trial: in fact, I'm
sure he didn't, for if he had, I should have heard of it."

"Well, that's queer," remarked Spargo. "It's very queer. For I'm
certain Maitland and Marbury are one and the same person. My theory
about that old leather box i