irection; his broad
face beamed in a genial smile, and he waved a white hand.

"Do you know Mr. Elphick, Mr. Spargo?" enquired the younger Miss
Aylmore.

"I rather think I've seen him, somewhere about the Temple," answered
Spargo. "In fact, I'm sure I have."

"His chambers are in Paper Buildings," said Jessie. "Sometimes he gives
tea-parties in them. He is Ronald's guardian, and preceptor, and
mentor, and all that, and I suppose he's dropped into this court to
hear how his pupil goes on."

"Here is Ronald," whispered Miss Aylmore.

"And here," said her sister, "is his lordship, looking very cross. Now,
Mr. Spargo, you're in for it."

Spargo, to tell the truth, paid little attention to what went on
beneath him. The case which young Breton presently opened was a
commercial one, involving certain rights and properties in a promissory
note; it seemed to the journalist that Breton dealt with it very well,
showing himself master of the financial details, and speaking with
readiness and assurance. He was much more interested in his companions,
and especially in the younger one, and he was meditating on how he
could improve his further acquaintance when he awoke to the fact that
the defence, realizing that it stood no chance, had agreed to withdraw,
and that Mr. Justice Borrow was already giving judgment in Ronald
Breton's favour.

In another minute he was walking out of the gallery in rear of the two
sisters.

"Very good--very good, indeed," he said, absent-mindedly. "I thought he
put his facts very clearly and concisely."

Downstairs, in the corridor, Ronald Breton was talking to Mr. Elphick.
He pointed a finger at Spargo as the latter came up with the girls:
Spargo gathered that Breton was speaking of the murder and of his,
Spargo's, connection with it. And directly they approached, he spoke.

"This is Mr. Spargo, sub-editor of the _Watchman_." Breton said. "Mr.
Elphick--Mr. Spargo. I was just telling Mr. Elphick, Spargo, that you
saw this poor man soon after he was found."

Spargo, glancing at Mr. Elphick, saw that he was deeply interested. The
elderly barrister took him--literally--by the button-hole.

"My dear sir!" he said. "You--saw this poor fellow? Lying dead--in the
third entry down Middle Temple Lane! The third entry, eh?"

"Yes," replied Spargo, simply. "I saw him. It was the third entry."

"Singular!" said Mr. Elphick, musingly. "I know a man who lives in that
house. In fact, I visited him last n