losing sight of anything that had to do with the murder. One might have suspected from his looks that he wished he could.
After making an appointment for three in the afternoon to examine papers, Trafford left the office and went to a little dingy room, in Gray's Inn Lane, where he was joined almost immediately by a tall, seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock, whose French was only a trifle worse than his English. He was a man whom few men would have trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely trustworthy. The man shook his head, with many a gestured negative. Not a man was missing from Little Canada; every man who was open to suspicion was accounted for, and not one of them showed a broken collar-bone or a shattered arm.
"But there are other Canucks in town, outside Little Canada," said Trafford.
The report included all. The man had determined the whereabouts of every Canadian of sixteen years of age and upwards, and there was not one who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge the night before.
