,
apparently thinking.

"Was Rathbury in court?" he suddenly asked.

"He was," replied Breton. "He was there with two or three other men who
I suppose were detectives, and seemed to be greatly interested in
Aylmore."

"If I don't see Rathbury tonight I'll see him in the morning," said
Spargo. He rose as if to go, but after lingering a moment, sat down
again. "Look here," he continued, "I don't know how this thing stands
in law, but would it be a very weak case against Aylmore if the
prosecution couldn't show some motive for his killing Marbury?"

Breton smiled.

"There's no necessity to prove motive in murder," he said. "But I'll
tell you what, Spargo--if the prosecution can show that Aylmore had a
motive for getting rid of Marbury, if they could prove that it was to
Aylmore's advantage to silence him--why, then, I don't think he's a
chance."

"I see. But so far no motive, no reason for his killing Marbury has
been shown."

"I know of none."

Spargo rose and moved to the door.

"Well, I'm off," he said. Then, as if he suddenly recollected
something, he turned back. "Oh, by the by," he said, "isn't your
guardian, Mr. Elphick, a big authority on philately?"

"One of the biggest. Awful enthusiast."

"Do you think he'd tell me a bit about those Australian stamps which
Marbury showed to Criedir, the dealer?"

"Certain, he would--delighted. Here"--and Breton scribbled a few words
on a card--"there's his address and a word from me. I'll tell you when
you can always find him in, five nights out of seven--at nine o'clock,
after he's dined. I'd go with you tonight, but I must go to Aylmore's.
The two girls are in terrible trouble." "Give them a message from me,"
said Spargo as they went out together. "Tell them to keep up their
hearts and their courage."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MR. ELPHICK'S CHAMBERS

Spargo went round again to the Temple that night at nine o'clock,
asking himself over and over again two questions--the first, how much
does Elphick know? the second, how much shall I tell him?

The old house in the Temple to which he repaired and in which many a
generation of old fogies had lived since the days of Queen Anne, was
full of stairs and passages, and as Spargo had forgotten to get the
exact number of the set of chambers he wanted, he was obliged to wander
about in what was a deserted building. So wandering, he suddenly heard
steps, firm, decisive steps coming up a staircase which he himself