out on the bed every article they contained and examined each
separately and carefully. And he found nothing whereby he could gather
any clue to the dead owner's identity.

"There you are!" he said, making an end of his task. "You see, it's
just the same with these things as with the clothes he had on him.
There are no papers--there's nothing to tell who he was, what he was
after, where he'd come from--though that we may find out in other
ways. But it's not often that a man travels without some clue to his
identity. Beyond the fact that some of this linen was, you see, bought
in Melbourne, we know nothing of him. Yet he must have had papers and
money on him. Did you see anything of his money, now, ma'am?" he asked,
suddenly turning to Mrs. Walters. "Did he pull out his purse in your
presence, now?"

"Yes," answered the landlady, with promptitude. "He came into the bar
for a drink after he'd been up to his room. He pulled out a handful of
gold when he paid for it--a whole handful. There must have been some
thirty to forty sovereigns and half-sovereigns."

"And he hadn't a penny piece on him--when found," muttered Rathbury.

"I noticed another thing, too," remarked the landlady. "He was wearing
a very fine gold watch and chain, and had a splendid ring on his left
hand--little finger--gold, with a big diamond in it."

"Yes," said the detective, thoughtfully, "I noticed that he'd worn a
ring, and that it had been a bit tight for him. Well--now there's only
one thing to ask about. Did your chambermaid notice if he left any torn
paper around--tore any letters up, or anything like that?"