"Yes; he was worth looking at." Lord Bonsdale's eyes half closed. "A
heavy-fisted, shapely brute; with muscles like steel. But ignorant--" He
lingered on the word; then his glance suddenly lifted--"Had something on
his arm; recall noticing it while the bout was on!"

Mr. Gillett with a knowing expression rose, took a volume from a
bookcase and opened it.

"The 'something' you speak of, my Lord," he observed proudly, "should be
here; I will show it that you may appreciate my system; the method I
have of gathering and tabulating data. You will find an encyclopedia of
information in that bookcase. All that Scotland Yard has, and perhaps a
little besides."

"Really?" The nobleman's eyes fastened themselves on the book.

"To illustrate: Here's his case." Gillett's fingers moved lightly over
the page. "'Testimony of Dandy Joe, down-stairs at the time with
landlady who kept the house where the crime was committed. Heard 'Frisco
Pet, who had been drinking, come in; go up-stairs, as they supposed, to
his own room; shortly after, loud voices; pistol shot. Landlady and Joe
found woman, Amy Gerard, dead in shabby little sitting-room. Pet, the
worse for liquor, in a dazed condition at a table, head in his hands.
Testimony of Joe corroborated by landlady; she swore no one had been in
house except parties here mentioned, all lodgers.

"'Private mem.--House in bad neighborhood, near the Adelphi catacombs.
Son of landlady, red-headed giant, also one-time prize-fighter, used to
live here; the Pet's last fight in the ring was with him. Later Tom took