discover who the man is with whom Marbury left the Anglo-Orient Hotel last night. That's his line."
"And you want?"
"I want to find out the full significance of that bit of paper, and who wrote it," answered Spargo. "I want to know why that old man was coming to you when he was murdered."
Breton started.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I—I never thought of that. You—you really think he was coming to me when he was struck down ?"
"Certain. Hadn't he got an address in the Temple? Wasn't he in the Temple? Of course, he was trying to find you."
"But—the late hour?"
"No matter. How else can you explain his presence in the Temple? I think he was asking his way. That's why I want to make some enquiries in this block."
It appeared to Spargo that a considerable number of people, chiefly of the office-boy variety, were desirous of making enquiries about the dead man. Being luncheon-hour, that bit of Middle Temple Lane where the body was found, was thick with the inquisitive and the sensation-seeker, for the news of the murder had spread, and though there was nothing to see but the bare stones on which the body had lain, there were more open mouths and staring eyes around the entry than Spargo had seen for many a day. And the nuisance had become so great that the occupants of the adjacent chambers had sent for a policeman to move the curious away, and when Spargo and his companion presented them-
