disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. Cupples, after a moment's thought, went to
the telephone in the porter's office.

He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and showing an
unaffected interest in the choice of food. 'I expect this to be a hard day for
me,' he said, with the curious jerky utterance which seemed to be his habit.
'I shan't eat again till the evening, very likely. You guess why I'm here,
don't you?'

'Undoubtedly,' said Mr. Cupples. 'You have come down to write about the
murder.'

'That is rather a colourless way of stating it,' the man called Trent replied,
as he dissected a sole. 'I should prefer to put it that I have come down in
the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the guilty, and vindicate the
honour of society. That is my line of business. Families waited on at their
private residences. I say, Cupples, I have made a good beginning already. Wait
a bit, and I'll tell you.' There was a silence, during which the newcomer ate
swiftly and abstractedly, while Mr. Cupples looked on happily.

'Your manager here,' said the tall man at last, 'is a fellow of remarkable
judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my best cases than I
do myself. The Record wired last night to say I was coming, and when I got out
of the train at seven o'clock this morning, there he was waiting for me with a
motor car the size of a haystack. He is beside himself with joy at having me
here. It is fame.' He drank a cup of tea and continued: 'Almost his first
words were to ask me if I would like to see the body of the murdered man if
so, he thought he could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body
lies in Dr Stock's surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was
when found. It's to be post-mortem'd this morning, by the way, so I was only