always do. He'd go somewhere to get his dinner. He'd--but what's the
use of enumeration in this case?"

"A mere piling up of platitudes," answered Spargo.

"What I mean is," continued Breton, "that piles of people must have
seen him, and yet it's now hours and hours since your paper came out
this morning, and nobody's come forward to tell anything. And when you
come to think of it, why should they? Who'd remember an ordinary man in
a grey tweed suit?"

"'An ordinary man in a grey tweed suit,'" repeated Spargo. "Good line.
You haven't any copyright in it, remember. It would make a good
cross-heading."

Breton laughed. "You're a queer chap, Spargo," he said. "Seriously, do
you think you're getting any nearer anything?"

"I'm getting nearer something with everything that's done," Spargo
answered. "You can't start on a business like this without evolving
something out of it, you know."

"Well," said Breton, "to me there's not so much mystery in it. Mr.
Aylmore's explained the reason why my address was found on the body;
Criedir, the stamp-man, has explained--"

Spargo suddenly looked up.

"What?" he said sharply.