There he sat--this tall, fair chap who had been in the place so long--with his big pocket-book on the table in front of him, and even from where I was I could see that there was a great pile of bank-notes sticking out from it.

All of a sudden he looks up and sees Mr.Morrison a-watching him and me from behind the counter.

Back he whisks the pocket-book into his pocket, calls me for my bill, gives me two mouldy pennies for a tip, buttons up his coat and walks out." "You know who he was ?" Laverick inquired.
Again the waiter paused for a moment before he answered--paused and looked nervously around the room.

His voice shook.
"He was the man as was murdered about a hundred yards off the 'Black Post' last night, sir," he said.
"How do you know ?" Laverick asked.
"I got an hour off to-day," the waiter continued, "and went down to the Mortuary.

There was no doubt about it.