"_Wrykyn Patriot_," said O'Hara, pulling out a bundle of letters.
He inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth extracted a
newspaper cutting.

"Read that," he said.

It was from the local paper, and ran as follows:--

"_Hooligan Outrage_--A painful sensation has been caused in the
town by a deplorable ebullition of local Hooliganism, which has
resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid statue of Sir
Eustace Briggs which stands in the New Recreation Grounds. Our readers
will recollect that the statue was erected to commemorate the return of
Sir Eustace as member for the borough of Wrykyn, by an overwhelming
majority, at the last election. Last Tuesday some youths of the town,
passing through the Recreation Grounds early in the morning, noticed
that the face and body of the statue were completely covered with
leaves and some black substance, which on examination proved to be tar.
They speedily lodged information at the police station. Everything
seems to point to party spite as the motive for the outrage. In view of
the forth-coming election, such an act is highly significant, and will
serve sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our opponents.
The search for the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of the dastardly act
is being vigorously prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the
police have already several clues."

"Clues!" said Clowes, handing back the paper, "that means _the
bat_. That gas about 'our opponents' is all a blind to put you off
your guard. You wait. There'll be more painful sensations before you've