"Good heavens!" muttered Viner, as he turned in surprise to Barleyfield.
"These men evidently don't know that the man they're talking about is--"

"Murdered!" whispered Barleyfield, with a grim smile. "Nothing wonderful
in that, Mr. Viner. They haven't connected Mr. Ashton with the man
they're mentioning--that's all."

"And yet Ashton's portrait has been in the papers!" exclaimed Viner. "It
amazes me!"

"Aye, just so, sir," said Barleyfield. "But--a hundred yards in London
takes you into another world, Mr. Viner. For all practical purposes,
Lonsdale Passage, though it's only a mile away, is as much separated
from this spot as New York is from London. Well--that's the man I told
you of, sir."

The man in question drank off the remaining contents of his glass, nodded
to the landlord, and walked out. And Viner was suddenly minded to do
something towards getting information.

"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to ask that landlord a question or two.
Come with me."

He went up to the bar, Barleyfield following in close attendance, and
gave the landlord a significant glance.

"Can I have a word with you, in private?" he asked.

The landlord looked his questioner over and promptly opened a flap in
the counter.