acsimile
of the scrap of paper will lead to somebody coming forward who can----"

Just then one of the uniformed youths who hang about the marble
pillared vestibule of the _Watchman_ office came into the room with the
unmistakable look and air of one who carries news of moment.

"I dare lay a sovereign to a cent that I know what this is," muttered
Spargo in an aside. "Well?" he said to the boy. "What is it?"

The messenger came up to the desk.

"Mr. Spargo," he said, "there's a man downstairs who says that he wants
to see somebody about that murder case that's in the paper this
morning, sir. Mr. Barrett said I was to come to you."

"Who is the man?" asked Spargo.

"Won't say, sir," replied the boy. "I gave him a form to fill up, but
he said he wouldn't write anything--said all he wanted was to see the
man who wrote the piece in the paper."

"Bring him here," commanded Spargo. He turned to Breton when the boy
had gone, and he smiled. "I knew we should have somebody here sooner or
later," he said. "That's why I hurried over my breakfast and came down
at ten o'clock. Now then, what will you bet on the chances of this
chap's information proving valuable?"

"Nothing," replied Breton. "He's probably some crank or faddist who's
got some theory that he wants to ventilate."

The man who was presently ushered in by the messenger seemed from
preliminary and outward appearance to justify Breton's prognostication.
He was obviously a countryman, a tall, loosely-built, middle-aged man,
yellow of hair, blue of eye, who was wearing his Sunday-best array of
pearl-grey trousers and black coat, and sported a necktie in which were
several distinct colours. Oppressed with the splendour and grandeur of
the _Watchman_ building, he had removed his hard billycock hat as he
followed the boy, and he ducked his bared head at the two young men as
he stepped on to the thick pile of the carpet which made luxurious
footing in Spargo's room. His blue eyes, opened to their widest, looked
round him in astonishment at the sumptuousness of modern
newspaper-office accommodation.

"How do you do, sir?" said Spargo, pointing a finger to one of the
easy-chairs for which the _Watchman_ office is famous. "I understand
that you wish to see me?"

The caller ducked his yellow head again, sat down on the edge of the
chair, put his hat on the floor, picked it up again, and endeavoured to
hang it on his knee, and looked at Spargo innocently and shyly.

"