"Yes," said Mrs. Walters quickly, "that's so. And he went out in that
cap last night. Well--we don't know much about him. As I said, he came
in here about a quarter past twelve yesterday morning, and booked
Number 20. He had a porter with him that brought a trunk and a
bag--they're in 20 now, of course. He told me that he had stayed at
this house over twenty years ago, on his way to Australia--that, of
course, was long before we took it. And he signed his name in the book
as John Marbury."

"We'll look at that, if you please," said Rathbury.

Walters fetched in the register and turned the leaf to the previous
day's entries. They all bent over the dead man's writing.

"'John Marbury, Coolumbidgee, New South Wales,'" said Rathbury.
"Ah--now I was wondering if that writing would be the same as that on
the scrap of paper, Mr. Breton. But, you see, it isn't--it's quite
different."

"Quite different," said Breton. He, too, was regarding the handwriting
with great interest. And Rathbury noticed his keen inspection of it,
and asked another question.

"Ever seen that writing before?" he suggested.

"Never," answered Breton. "And yet--there's something very familiar
about it."

"Then the probability is that you have seen it before," remarked
Rathbury. "Well--now we'll hear a little more about Marbury's doings