ight, and did not leave until
nearly midnight. And this unfortunate man had Mr. Ronald Breton's name
and address in his pocket?"

Spargo nodded. He looked at Breton, and pulled out his watch. Just then
he had no idea of playing the part of informant to Mr. Elphick.

"Yes, that's so," he answered shortly. Then, looking at Breton
significantly, he added, "If you can give me those few minutes, now--?"

"Yes--yes!" responded Ronald Breton, nodding. "I understand.
Evelyn--I'll leave you and Jessie to Mr. Elphick; I must go."

Mr. Elphick seized Spargo once more.

"My dear sir!" he said, eagerly. "Do you--do you think I could possibly
see--the body?"

"It's at the mortuary," answered Spargo. "I don't know what their
regulations are."

Then he escaped with Breton. They had crossed Fleet Street and were in
the quieter shades of the Temple before Spargo spoke.

"About what I wanted to say to you," he said at last. "It was--this.
I--well, I've always wanted, as a journalist, to have a real big murder
case. I think this is one. I want to go right into it--thoroughly,
first and last. And--I think you can help me."

"How do you know that it is a murder case?" asked Breton quietly.

"It's a murder case," answered Spargo, stolidly. "I feel it. Instinct,
perhaps. I'm going to ferret out the truth. And it seems to me--"

He paused and gave his companion a sharp glance.

"It seems to me," he presently continued, "that the clue lies in that
scrap of paper. That paper and that man are connecting links between
you and--somebody else."

"Possibly," agreed Breton. "You want to find the somebody else?"

"I want you to help me to find the somebody else," answered Spargo. "I
believe this is a big, very big affair: I want to do it. I don't
believe in police methods--much. By the by, I'm just going to meet
Rathbury. He may have heard of something. Would you like to come?"

Breton ran into his chambers in King's Bench Walk, left his gown and
wig, and walked round with Spargo to the police office. Rathbury came
out as they were stepping in.

"Oh!" he said. "Ah!--I've got what may be helpful, Mr. Spargo. I told
you I'd sent a man to Fiskie's, the hatter! Well, he's just returned.
The cap which the dead man was wearing was bought at Fiskie's yesterday
afternoon, and it was sent to Mr. Marbury, Room 20, at the Anglo-Orient
Hotel."

"Where is that?" asked Spargo.

"Waterloo district," answered Rathbury. "A small house, I believe.