verac Bablon?"

Julius Rohscheimer's eyes grew more prominent than usual.

"No, no. The great Lemage. Lemage of Paris--his accomplice. This dagger
is worth two thousand francs. Let me see if a Turk has been in these
rooms. I meet Victor Lemage on such another occasion with this. He say
to me, 'Dr. Lepardo, come to the Rue So-and-such. A young person is
stabbed with a new kind of knife.' I tell him, 'It is Afghan, M.
Lemage.' He find one who had been in that country, arrest--and it is the
assassin. There is no smell of a Turk here. Ah, yes. The Turk, he have a
smell of his own, as have the negro, the Chinese, the Malay."

Pulling a magnifying-glass from one bulging pocket of his inverness, Dr.
Lepardo went peering over the writing desk, passing with a grunt from
the bloodstained paper bearing the name of Severac Bablon to the other
documents and books lying there; to the pigeon-holes; to the chair; to
the rug; to the body. Crawling on all fours he went peering about the
floor, scratching at the carpet with his long nails like some monstrous,
restless cat.

Harborne glanced at Dr. Simons and tapped his forehead significantly.

"Humour my friend," whispered the physician. "He may appear mad, but he
is a man of most curious information. Believe me, if any Oriental has
been in these rooms within the last hour he will tell you so."

Dr. Lepardo from beneath a table rumbled hoarsely:

"There is a back stair. He went out that way as someone came in."

Julius Rohscheimer started violently.

"Good God! Then he was here when _I_ came in!" he exclaimed.

"Who speaks?" rumbled Lepardo, crawling away into the outside office,
and apparently following a trail visible only to himself.

"It is Mr. Julius Rohscheimer," explained Simons. "He was a partner, I
understand, of the late Mr. Graham's. He entered with a key about seven
o'clock and discovered the murder."

"As he came in our friend the assassin go out," cried Lepardo.

Harborne gave rapid orders to the two constables, both of whom
immediately departed.

"Are you sure of that, sir?" he called.

Against the promptings of his common sense, the eccentric methods of the
peculiar old traveller were beginning to impress him.

"Certainly. But look!"

Dr. Lepardo re-entered the inner office, carrying several files.

"See! He begins to destroy these letters. He has certainly taken many
away. If you look you see that he has torn pages from the private
accounts on the des