at man had been encompassed.

He walked aimlessly westward, unconscious of and uncaring for his
shadower, and had reached the end of Piccadilly when somebody took him
gently by the arm. He turned, and as he recognised an acquaintance, his
thick lips went back in an ugly snarl.

"It's all right, Sam," said the plain-clothes policeman with a grin.
"There's no trouble coming to you. I just want to ask you a few
questions."

"You fellows have been asking questions day and night since--since that
happened," growled Sam.

Nevertheless, he permitted himself to be mollified and led to a seat in
the Park.

"Now, I'm putting it to you straight, Sam," said the policeman. "We've
got nothing against you at the Yard, but we think you might be able to
help us. You knew Mr. Lyne; he was very decent to you."

"Here, shut up," said Sam savagely. "I don't want to talk about it. I
don't want to think about it! D'ye hear? He was the grandest fellow that
ever was, was Mr. Lyne, God bless him! Oh, my God! My God!" he wailed,
and to the detective's surprise this hardened criminal buried his face in
his hands.

"That's all right, Sam. I know he was a nice fellow. Had he any
enemies--he might have talked to a chap like you where he wouldn't have
talked to his friends."

Sam, red-eyed, looked up suspiciously.

"Am I going to get into any trouble for talking?" he said.

"None at all, Sam," said the policeman quickly. "Now, you be a good lad
and do all you can to help us, and maybe, if you ever get into trouble,
we'll put one in for you. Do you see? Did anybody hate him?"

Sam nodded.

"Was it a woman?" asked the detective with studied indifference.

"It was," replied the other with an oath. "Damn her, it was! He treated
her well, did Mr. Lyne. She was broke, half-starving; he took her out of
the gutter and put her into a good place, and she went about making
accusations against him!"

He poured forth a stream of the foulest abuse which the policeman had
ever heard.

"That's the kind of girl she was, Slade," he went on, addressing the
detective, as criminals will, familiarly by their surnames. "She ain't
fit to walk the earth----"

His voice broke.

"Might I ask her name?" demanded Slade.

Again Sam looked suspiciously around.

"Look here," he said, "leave me to deal with her. I'll settle with her,
and don't you worry!"

"That would only get you into trouble, Sam," mused Slade. "Just give us
her name. Did it begin with a