esitating a moment, swallowed nervously in his agitation.

"Yes," he said huskily, "I know--but that's all right! . . . As I said
before--it can make little or no difference . . . in my case. . . ."

Turning, Kilbride silently motioned to McSporran to unlock the cell-door.

The huge manacled prisoner emerged, and shuffled awkwardly towards the
inner room, closely attended by his armed escort.

Slavin and Yorke, seated together at one end of the table, arose as Gully
entered. Standing curiously still, as if carved in stone, their bitter
eyes alone betraying their emotions, silently they gazed at the huge,
gaunt, unkempt figure that came shambling towards them.

Gully halted and stared long and fixedly at the relentless faces of the
two men whose grim, dogged vigilance had led to his undoing. Over his
blood-streaked, haggard face there swept the peculiar ruthless smile
which they knew so well; and he raised his manacled hands in a semblance
of a salute.

"_Morituri te salufant_!" he muttered in his harsh, growling bass--the
speech nevertheless of an educated man.

"Eh, fwhat?" queried Slavin vaguely. The classical allusion was lost on
him, but Kilbride and Yorke exchanged a grim, meaning smile as they
recalled the ancient formula of the Roman arena. McSporran pushed
forward a chair, into which Gully dropped heavily. Chin cupped in hands,
and elbows resting on knees he remained for a space in an attitude of
profound thought. The inspector, resuming his chair at the table,
motioned his subordinates to be seated, and reached forward for some
writing materials.

"All right, now, Gully!" he began, in a hard, metallic tone. "What is it
you wish to say?" All waited expectantly.

Apparently with an effort Gully roused himself out of the deep reverie
into which be had sunk, and for a space he gazed with blood-shot eyes
into the calm, stern face of his questioner. Then, with a sort of dreamy
sighing ejaculation, he roused himself and, leaning back in his chair,
began the following remarkable story. He spoke in a recklessly earnest
manner and with a sort of deadly composure that startled and impressed
his hearers in no little degree.

"Listen, Inspector," he said. "A good deal of the story I'm going to
tell you has no bearing on the--the--the--case in hand. There's no use
in you taking all this down. I understand procedure"--he smiled
wanly--"therefore, with your permission I'll go ahead, and you can
constru