I had seen it before I met him, and as it must have been on sale in Paris as well as London, it had been easy enough for the newspaper people to get it.

Then there came the story of the murder, built up dramatically.

Hating it, sickened by it, I yet read it all.

I knew where to go to find the house, and I knew that the murder had been committed in a back room on the top floor.

Also I saw the picture of the window with the balcony.