"Yes, sir," said Spike simply. "Just that, sir."

"Rather hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. That's why I called the police." Chief Leverage was shivering
under the impact of the winter blasts.

"S'pose we take a look at the bird, David," he suggested, nodding toward
the taxi. "That might tell us something."

Carroll nodded. The men entered the taxi, and Leverage flashed a
pocket-torch in the face of the dead man. Then he uttered an exclamation
of surprise not unmixed with horror.

"Good Lord!"

"You know him?" questioned Carroll easily.

"Know him? I'll say I do. Why, man, that's Roland Warren!"

"Warren! Roland Warren! Not the clubman?"

"The very same one, Carroll, an' none other. Well, I'm a sonovagun!
Sa-a-ay, something surely _has_ been started here." He swung around on
the taxi-driver. "You, Walters!"

"Yes, sir?"

"You are sure the suit-case is still in front?"