each
separately and carefully. And he found nothing whereby he could gather
any clue to the dead owner's identity.

"There you are!" he said, making an end of his task. "You see, it's
just the same with these things as with the clothes he had on him.
There are no papers--there's nothing to tell who he was, what he was
after, where he'd come from--though that we may find out in other
ways. But it's not often that a man travels without some clue to his
identity. Beyond the fact that some of this linen was, you see, bought
in Melbourne, we know nothing of him. Yet he must have had papers and
money on him. Did you see anything of his money, now, ma'am?" he asked,
suddenly turning to Mrs. Walters. "Did he pull out his purse in your
presence, now?"

"Yes," answered the landlady, with promptitude. "He came into the bar
for a drink after he'd been up to his room. He pulled out a handful of
gold when he paid for it--a whole handful. There must have been some
thirty to forty sovereigns and half-sovereigns."

"And he hadn't a penny piece on him--when found," muttered Rathbury.

"I noticed another thing, too," remarked the landlady. "He was wearing
a very fine gold watch and chain, and had a splendid ring on his left
hand--little finger--gold, with a big diamond in it."

"Yes," said the detective, thoughtfully, "I noticed that he'd worn a
ring, and that it had been a bit tight for him. Well--now there's only
one thing to ask about. Did your chambermaid notice if he left any torn
paper around--tore any letters up, or anything like that?"

But the chambermaid, produced, had not noticed anything of the sort; on
the contrary, the gentleman of Number 20 had left his room very tidy
indeed. So Rathbury intimated that he had no more to ask, and nothing
further to say, just then, and he bade the landlord and landlady of the
Anglo-Orient Hotel good morning, and went away, followed by the two
young men.

"What next?" asked Spargo, as they gained the street.

"The next thing," answered Rathbury, "is to find the man with whom
Marbury left this hotel last night."

"And how's that to be done?" asked Spargo.

"At present," replied Rathbury, "I don't know."

And with a careless nod, he walked off, apparently desirous of being
alone.

CHAPTER FIVE

SPARGO WISHES TO SPECIALIZE

The barrister and the journalist, left thus unceremoniously on a
crowded pavement, looked at each other. Breton laughed.

"We don't seem to have g