"Look in his watch," said Ariadne, bridling with importance.

Giving her a keen glance, the inspector followed her suggestion. In
the back of the case was a picture of a coquettish face, undoubtedly
that of an actress. It was not carefully fastened in, but roughly cut
out and pressed in with ragged edges.

"Temporary," grunted the inspector, "and recently stuck in. Some
chicken he took out to supper. He's a club man, you say?"

"Yes, Mr. Steele said so, and also vouched for his worth and
character." I resented the inspector's attitude. Though I knew nothing
of Somers, and didn't altogether like him, yet, I saw no reason to
think ill of the dead, until circumstances warranted it.

Further search brought a thick roll of money, some loose silver, a
key-ring with seven or eight keys, eyeglasses in a silver case,
handkerchiefs, a gold pencil, a knife, and such trifles as any man
might have in his pockets, but no directly identifying piece of
property.

R. S. was embroidered in tiny white letters on the handkerchiefs, and
a monogram R. S. was on his seal ring.

His jewelry, which was costly, the inspector did not touch. There were
magnificent pearl studs, a watch fob, set with a black opal and pearl
cufflinks. Examination of his hat showed the pierced letters R. S.,
but nothing gave clue to his Christian name.