line." "And you want----?"

"I want to find out the full significance of that bit of paper, and who
wrote it," answered Spargo. "I want to know why that old man was coming
to you when he was murdered."

Breton started.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I--I never thought of that. You--you really
think he was coming to me when he was struck down?"

"Certain. Hadn't he got an address in the Temple? Wasn't he in the
Temple? Of course, he was trying to find you."

"But--the late hour?"

"No matter. How else can you explain his presence in the Temple? I
think he was asking his way. That's why I want to make some enquiries
in this block."

It appeared to Spargo that a considerable number of people, chiefly of
the office-boy variety, were desirous of making enquiries about the
dead man. Being luncheon-hour, that bit of Middle Temple Lane where the
body was found, was thick with the inquisitive and the
sensation-seeker, for the news of the murder had spread, and though
there was nothing to see but the bare stones on which the body had
lain, there were more open mouths and staring eyes around the entry
than Spargo had seen for many a day. And the nuisance had become so
great that the occupants of the adjacent chambers had sent for a
policeman to move the curious away, and when Spargo and his companion