iminal
lunatic.

"I give this theory, Sir, for what it is worth, but I confess that
I am amazed the police have so wholly confined their inquiries to
the part of London where these murders have been actually committed.
I am quite sure from all that has come out--and we must remember
that full information is never given to the newspapers--The Avenger
should be sought for in the West and not in the East End of London
--Believe me to remain, Sir, yours very truly--"

Again Daisy hesitated, and then with an effort she brought out the
word "Gab-o-ri-you," said she.

"What a funny name!" said Bunting wonderingly.

And then Joe broke in: "That's the name of a French chap what wrote
detective stories," he said. "Pretty good, some of them are, too!"

"Then this Gaboriyou has come over to study these Avenger murders,
I take it?" said Bunting.

"Oh, no," Joe spoke with confidence. "Whoever's written that silly
letter just signed that name for fun."

"It is a silly letter," Mrs. Bunting had broken in resentfully. "I
wonder a respectable paper prints such rubbish."

"Fancy if The Avenger did turn out to be a gentleman!" cried Daisy, in
an awe-struck voice. "There'd be a how-to-do!"

"There may be something in the notion," said her father thoughtfully.
"After all, the monster must be somewhere. This very minute he must
be somewhere a-hiding of himself."

"Of course he's somewhere," said Mrs. Bunting scornfully.

She had just heard Mr. Sleuth moving overhead. 'Twould soon be time
for the lodger's supper.

She hurried on: "But what I do say is that--that--he has nothing
to do with the West End. Why, they say it's a sailor from the Docks
--that's a good bit more likely, I take it. But there, I'm fair
sick of the whole subject! We talk of nothing else in this house.
The Avenger this--The Avenger that--"

"I expect Joe has something to tell us new to-night," said Bunting
cheerfully. "Well, Joe, is there anything new?"

"I say, father, just listen to this!" Daisy broke in excitedly.
She read out:

"BLOODHOUNDS TO BE SERIOUSLY CONSIDERED"

"Bloodhounds?" repeated Mrs. Bunting, and there was terror in her
tone. "Why bloodhounds? That do seem to me a most horrible idea!"

Bunting looked across at her, mildly astonished. "Why, 'twould be
a very good idea, if 'twas possible to have bloodhounds in a town.
But, there, how can that be done in London, full of butchers' shops,
to say nothing of slaughter-yards and other pl