k. He is disturbed by Mr. Someheimer. Can you know
the address of his lady secretary-typist?"

Harborne's eyes sparkled appreciatively.

"You're pretty wide at this business, doctor," he confessed. "I'm
looking after her myself. But Mr. Rohscheimer doesn't know, and all the
staff have gone long ago."

"Ah!" rumbled Dr. Lepardo, dropping his glass into the sack-like pocket.
"No Arab or such person has done this. He was one who wore gloves. So I
no longer am interested. Here"--placing a small object on the desk
beside the yataghan--"is new evidence I find for you. It is a
boot-button--foreign. Ah! if the great Lemage could be here. It is his
imagination that makes him supreme. In his imagination he would murder
again the poor Graham with the yataghan. He would lose his boot-button.
He would run away--as Mr. Heimar comes in--to some hiding-place, taking
with him the bills and the letters he had stolen, and the notes from the
safe. Once in his secret retreat, he would arrest himself--and behold,
in an hour--in ten minutes--his hand would be upon the shoulder of the
other assassin. Ah! such a case would be joy to him. He would revel. He
would gloat."

Harborne nodded.

"If Mr. Lemage would come and revel with me for half an hour I
wouldn't say no to learning from him," he said. "But it isn't
likely--particularly considering that this is a Severac Bablon case."

"Ah!" rumbled Dr. Lepardo, "you should travel, my friend. You would
learn much of the imagination in the desert of Sahara, in the forests of
Yucatan."

"You know," continued Harborne, turning to Simons, "these Severac Bablon
cases--I don't mind admitting it--are over my weight. They bristle with
clues. We get to know of addresses he uses--people he's acquainted
with--and what good does it do us? Not a ha'p'orth. Of course, it's a
fact that he's had influential friends up to now, but this job, unless
I'm mistaken, will alter the complexion of things. What d'you think
Victor Lemage will say to _this_, Dr. Lepardo?"

But there was no one to answer, for the man from the forests of Yucatan
had vanished.

The charwoman of Moorgate Place was the next person to encounter Dr.
Lepardo, and his kindly manner completely won her heart. She had seen
Miss Maitland--the dead man's secretary--regularly go to lunch and
sometimes to tea with a young lady from Messrs. Bowden and Ralph's. The
staff at this firm of stockbrokers was working late, and it was unlikely
that the you