replied Mr. Criedir. "Mr. Cardlestone is one of the most enthusiastic
and accomplished philatelists in Europe. And I knew he didn't possess
that set of stamps."

"I know Mr. Cardlestone," remarked Spargo. "It was at the foot of his
stairs that Marbury was found murdered."

"Just so," said Mr. Criedir. "Which makes me think that he was going to
see Mr. Cardlestone when he was set upon, murdered, and robbed."

Spargo looked fixedly at the retired stamp-dealer.

"What, going to see an elderly gentleman in his rooms in the Temple, to
offer to sell him philatelic rarities at--past midnight?" he said. "I
think--not much!"

"All right," replied Mr. Criedir. "You think and argue on modern
lines--which are, of course, highly superior. But--how do you account
for my having given Marbury Mr. Cardlestone's address and for his
having been found dead--murdered--at the foot of Cardlestone's stairs
a few hours later?"

"I don't account for it," said Spargo. "I'm trying to."

Mr. Criedir made no comment on this. He looked his visitor up and down
for a moment; gathered some idea of his capabilities, and suddenly
offered him a cigarette. Spargo accepted it with a laconic word of
thanks, and smoked half-way through it before he spoke again.

"Yes," he said. "I'm trying to account. And I shall account. And I'm