ained much information," he remarked. "I'm
about as wise as ever."

"No--wiser," said Spargo. "At any rate, I am. I know now that this dead
man called himself John Marbury; that he came from Australia; that he
only landed at Southampton yesterday morning, and that he was in the
company last night of a man whom we have had described to us--a tall,
grey-bearded, well-dressed man, presumably a gentleman."

Breton shrugged his shoulders.

"I should say that description would fit a hundred thousand men in
London," he remarked.

"Exactly--so it would," answered Spargo. "But we know that it was one
of the hundred thousand, or half-million, if you like. The thing is to
find that one--the one."

"And you think you can do it?"

"I think I'm going to have a big try at it."

Breton shrugged his shoulders again.

"What?--by going up to every man who answers the description, and
saying 'Sir, are you the man who accompanied John Marbury to the
Aglo----"

Spargo suddenly interrupted him.

"Look here!" he said. "Didn't you say that you knew a man who lives in
that block in the entry of which Marbury was found?"

"No, I didn't," answered Breton. "It was Mr. Elphick who said that. All
the same, I do know that man--he's Mr. Cardlestone, another barrister.
He and Mr. Elphick are friends--they're both enthusiastic
philatelists--stamp collectors, you know--and I dare say Mr. Elphick
was round there last night examining something new Cardlestone's got
hold of. Why?"

"I'd like to go round there and make some enquiries," replied Spargo.
"If you'd be kind enough to----"

"Oh, I'll go with you!" responded Breton, with alacrity. "I'm just as
keen about this business as you are, Spargo! I want to know who this
man Marbury is, and how he came to have my name and address on him.
Now, if I had been a well-known man in my profession, you know, why--"

"Yes," said Spargo, as they got into a cab, "yes, that would have
explained a lot. It seems to me that we'll get at the murderer through
that scrap of paper a lot quicker than through Rathbury's line. Yes,
that's what I think."

Breton looked at his companion with interest.

"But--you don't know what Rathbury's line is," he remarked.

"Yes, I do," said Spargo. "Rathbury's gone off to discover who the man
is with whom Marbury left the Anglo-Orient Hotel last night. That's his
line." "And you want----?"

"I want to find out the full significance of that bit of paper, and who
wrote i