Somewhere the plan miscarried.

It was when he came to the incidents that occurred on the night of the murder that T.X.followed him with the greatest interest.
"The old gentleman came in," said Fisher, "and I saw him up to the room.

I heard him coming out and I went up and spoke to him while he was having a chat with Mr.Kara at the open door." "Did you hear Mr.Kara speak ?" "I fancy I did, sir," said Fisher; "anyway the old gentleman was quite pleased with himself." "Why do you say 'old gentleman'!" asked T.X.; "he was not an old man." "Not exactly, sir," said Fisher, "but he had a sort of fussy irritable way that old gentlemen sometimes have and I somehow got it fixed in my mind that he was old.

As a matter of fact, he was about forty-five, he may have been fifty." "You have told me all this before.

Was there anything peculiar about him!" Fisher hesitated.
"Nothing, sir, except the fact that one of his arms was a game one." "Meaning that it was--" "Meaning that it was an artificial one, sir, so far as I can make out." "Was it his right or his left arm that was game!" interrupted T.X.
"His left arm, sir." "You're sure ?" "I'd swear to it, sir." "Very well, go on." "He came downstairs and went out and I never saw him again.