And--" A man came into the office--a stolid-faced, quiet-mannered, soberly attired person, who might have been a respectable tradesman out for a stroll, and who gave the inspector a sidelong nod as he approached his desk, at the same time extending his hand towards the scrap of paper which Spargo had just laid down.
"I'll go along to King's Bench Walk and see Mr.Breton," he observed, looking at his watch.

"It's just about ten--I daresay he'll be there now." "I'm going there, too," remarked Spargo, but as if speaking to himself.
"Yes, I'll go there." The newcomer glanced at Spargo, and then at the inspector.

The inspector nodded at Spargo.
"Journalist," he said, "Mr.Spargo of the _Watchman_.

Mr.Spargo was there when the body was found.

And he knows Mr.Breton." Then he nodded from Spargo to the stolid-faced person.