A moment." He disappeared into the next room and came back a moment later in all the glory of a new silk hat.

Spargo, a young man who was never very particular about his dress, began to contrast his own attire with the butterfly appearance of this youngster; he had been quick to notice that the two girls who had whisked into the inner room had been similarly garbed in fine raiment, more characteristic of Mayfair than of Fleet Street.

Already he felt a strange curiosity about Breton, and about the young ladies whom he heard talking behind the inner door.
"Well, come on," said Breton.

"Let's go straight there." The mortuary to which Rathbury led the way was cold, drab, repellent to the general gay sense of the summer morning.

Spargo shivered involuntarily as he entered it and took a first glance around.