where the last one happened--"

"No!" said Bunting incredulously. "You don't mean there was a
policeman there, within a few yards?"

That fact hadn't been recorded in his newspaper.

Chandler nodded. "That's exactly what I do mean, Mr. Bunting! The
man is near off his head, so I'm told. He did hear a yell, so he
says, but he took no notice--there are a good few yells in that
part o' London, as you can guess. People always quarrelling and
rowing at one another in such low parts."

"Have you seen the bits of grey paper on which the monster writes
his name?" inquired Bunting eagerly.

Public imagination had been much stirred by the account of those
three-cornered pieces of grey paper, pinned to the victims' skirts,
on which was roughly written in red ink and in printed characters
the words "The Avenger."

His round, fat face was full of questioning eagerness. He put his
elbows on the table, and stared across expectantly at the young man.

"Yes, I have," said Joe briefly.

"A funny kind of visiting card, eh!" Bunting laughed; the notion
struck him as downright comic.

But Mrs. Bunting coloured. "It isn't a thing to make a joke about,"