that of Mr. Levinsky is rare even in
east-end London, and it may be worth while to return to the corner of
the billiard-room and to study more closely this remarkable man.

He was sitting where the detectives had left him, and although their
departure might have been supposed to have depressed him, actually it
had had a contrary effect; he was chuckling with amusement, and, between
his chuckles, addressing himself to the contents of the pewter with
every mark of appreciation. Three gleaming golden teeth on the lower
row, and one glittering canine, made a dazzling show every time that he
smiled; he was a very greasy and a very mirthful Hebrew.

Finishing his tankard of ale, he shuffled out into the street, the line
of his bent shoulders running parallel with that of his hat-brim. His
hat appeared to be several sizes too large for his head, and his skull
was only prevented from disappearing into the capacious crown by the
intervention of his ears, which, acting as brackets, supported the whole
weight of the rain-sodden structure. He mounted a tram proceeding in
the same direction as that which had borne off the Scotland Yard men.
Quitting this at Bow Road, he shuffled into the railway station, and
from Bow Road proceeded to Liverpool Street. Emerging from the station
at Liverpool Street, he entered a motor-'bus bound westward.

His neighbors, inside, readily afforded him ample elbow room; and,
smiling agreeably at every one, including the conductor (who resented
his good-humor) and a pretty girl in the corner seat (who found it
embarrassing) he proceeded to Charing Cross. Descending from the 'bus,
he passed out into Leicester Square and plunged into the network of
streets which complicates the map of Soho. It will be of interest to
follow him.

In a narrow turning off Greek Street, and within hail of the popular
Bohemian restaurants, he paused before a doorway sandwiched between a
Continental newsagent's and a tiny French cafe; and, having fumbled
in his greasy raiment he presently produced a key, opened the door,
carefully closed it behind him, and mounted the dark stair.

On the top floor he entered a studio, boasting a skylight upon which the
rain was drumming steadily and drearily. Lighting a gas burner in
one corner of the place which bore no evidence of being used for its
legitimate purpose--he entered a little adjoining dressing-room. Hot
and cold water were laid on there, and a large zinc bath stood upon the