"I didn't suppose you would," he remarked. "Well, I expect we must go
on the usual lines. Somebody'll identify him."

"You say he was murdered?" said Breton. "Is that--certain?"

Rathbury jerked his thumb at the corpse.

"The back of his skull is smashed in," he said laconically. "The doctor
says he must have been struck down from behind--and a fearful blow,
too. I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Breton."

"Oh, all right!" said Breton. "Well, you know where to find me if you
want me. I shall be curious about this. Good-bye--good-bye, Mr.
Spargo."

The young barrister hurried away, and Rathbury turned to the
journalist.

"I didn't expect anything from that," he remarked. "However, it was a
thing to be done. You are going to write about this for your paper?"

Spargo nodded.

"Well," continued Rathbury, "I've sent a man to Fiskie's, the hatter's,
where that cap came from, you know. We may get a bit of information
from that quarter--it's possible. If you like to meet me here at
twelve o'clock I'll tell you anything I've heard. Just now I'm going to
get some breakfast."

"I'll meet you here," said Spargo, "at twelve o'clock."