shirt, once white, but now of an unsavoury grey.
"I want to know what this is," said Miller, exhibiting a brownish-red stain on one sleeve. "Just look at that, sir, and tell me if it is blood, and, if so, is it human blood?"
"Really, Miller," said Thorndyke, with a smile, "you flatter me; but I am not like the wise woman of Bagdad who could tell you how many stairs the patient had tumbled down by merely looking at his tongue. I must examine this very thoroughly. When do you want to know?"
"I should like to know to-night," replied the detective.
"Can I cut a piece out to put under the microscope?"
"I would rather you did not," was the reply.
"Very well; you shall have the information in about an hour."
"It's very good of you, doctor," said the detective; and he was taking up his hat preparatory to departing, when Thorndyke said suddenly—
"By the way, there is a little matter that I was going to speak to you about. It refers to this Camberwell murder case. I understand you have a clue to the identity of the murderer?"
"Clue!" exclaimed the superintendent contemptuously. "
