ll its garish
glitter, its moods of dulness and of gaiety, its petrol-smelling streets,
its farces of passing life, and its hard and bitter dramas always
appealed to me. It was my home, the atmosphere in which I had been born
and bred, nay, my very existence. I loved London and was ever true to the
city of my birth, even though its climate might be derided, and Paris
claimed as the one city in which to find the acme of comfort and
enjoyment.

I had not sought mystery--far from it. It had been thrust upon me, and
now, as we went along the High Street in Kensington, towards the
police-station, I found myself a sudden but important factor in a stern
chase--a man-hunt--such as London had seldom known, for Edwards was
saying to me:

"At all hazards we must find your friend Kemsley, and you, Mr. Royle,
must help us. You know him, and can identify him. There are grave
suspicions against him, and these must be cleared up in view of the
mysterious tragedy in Harrington Gardens."

"You surely don't expect me to denounce my friend!" I cried.

"It is not a question of denouncing him. His own actions have rendered
the truth patent to every one. The girl was brutally killed, and he
disappeared. Therefore he must be found," Edwards said.

"But who was it who telephoned to me, do you think?" I asked.

"Himself, perhaps. He was full of inventiveness, and he may have adopted
that course hoping, when the time came, to prove an alibi. Who knows?"
asked the famous inspector.

"Look here!" I said as we crossed the threshold of the police-station, "I
don't believe Sir Digby was either an impostor or an assassin."

"Time will prove, Mr. Royle," he laughed with an incredulous air. "A man
don't take all these precautions before disappearing unless he has a
deeper motive. Your friend evidently knew of the lady's impending visit.
Indeed, how could she have entered the flat had he not admitted her?"

"She might have had a key," I hazarded.

"Might--but not very likely," he said. "No, my firm conviction is that
the man you know as Sir Digby Kemsley struck the fatal blow, and took the
knife away with him."

I shrugged my shoulders, but did not reply.

Inside the station, we passed into the long room devoted to the officers
of the Criminal Investigation Department attached to the division, and
there met two sergeants who had given evidence.

I was shown the photograph of the dead unknown, calm, and even pretty,
just as I had seen her l