address, scrawled in pencil:--Ronald Breton, Barrister, King's Bench
Walk, Temple, London.




CHAPTER TWO

HIS FIRST BRIEF


Spargo looked up at the inspector with a quick jerk of his head. "I
know this man," he said.

The inspector showed new interest.

"What, Mr. Breton?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm on the _Watchman_, you know, sub-editor. I took an article
from him the other day--article on 'Ideal Sites for Campers-Out.' He
came to the office about it. So this was in the dead man's pocket?"

"Found in a hole in his pocket, I understand: I wasn't present myself.
It's not much, but it may afford some clue to identity."

Spargo picked up the scrap of grey paper and looked closely at it. It
seemed to him to be the sort of paper that is found in hotels and in
clubs; it had been torn roughly from the sheet.

"What," he asked meditatively, "what will you do about getting this man