two were climbing the old balustrated staircase of the house in King's Bench Walk in which Ronald Breton's chambers were somewhere situate that Spargo spoke.
"Do you think that old chap was killed for what he may have had on him?" he asked, suddenly turning on the detective.
"I should like to know what he had on him before I answered that question, Mr. Spargo," replied Rathbury, with a smile.
"Yes," said Spargo, dreamily. "I suppose so. He might have had—nothing on him, eh?"
The detective laughed, and pointed to a board on which names were printed.
"We don't know anything yet, sir," he observed, "except that Mr. Breton is on the fourth floor. By which I conclude that it isn't long since he was eating his dinner."
"Oh, he's young—he's quite young," said Spargo. "I should say he's about four-and-twenty. I've met him only"
At that moment the unmistakable sounds of girlish laughter came down the staircase. Two girls seemed to be laughing—presently masculine laughter mingled with the lighter feminine.
"Seems to be studying law in very pleasant fashion up here, anyway," said Rathbury. "Mr. Breton's chambers, too. And the door's open."
The outer oak door of Ronald Breton's chambers stood thrown wide; the inner one was well ajar; through the opening thus made Spargo and the detective obtained a full view of the interior of Mr. Ronald Breton's rooms.
