"That is just the point to which I am coming," said Gerald. "We do want your further assistance. It is for that very purpose I am here to see you to-day: it is for that very purpose Mr. Murray himself has come to see you." "Mr. Murray here--to see me!" "He is waiting in a cab at the corner of the street. I will go and fetch him." Presently Ambrose Murray entered, ushered in by Gerald. Byrne regarded him with mingled feelings of respect, curiosity, and pity. It was characteristic of the man that during the few minutes of Gerald's absence he had found time to put on a better coat, and also, if the whole truth must be confessed, to impart the very slightest extra suspicion of rouge to his cheeks. The pipe was not again visible during the interview. Gerald introduced Mr. Murray in his real name to Byrne, who had hardly spoken half a dozen words to him at their previous meeting. "I am proud to see you, sir, under my humble roof," said Byrne, "and I should have been proud to have entertained you during my days of prosperity. But that was not to be," he added, with a melancholy shake of the head. "And now to business," said Gerald. "Mr. Murray is firmly convinced that Max Jacoby was the murderer of Paul Stilling." "Aye, aye!" interjected Byrne. "As a matter of course, the great desire of his life is to prove his innocence of the terrible crime of which in the eye of the law he is still adjudged to be guilty. He can only do this by bringing home the guilt to the real murderer. Assuming Mr. Murray's view of the case to be the correct one, the question is, by what means is Jacoby's guilt to be brought home to him?" "And that is the problem you have come to me to help you to solve?" said Byrne. Murray answered by a grave inclination of the head. "I don't know that I ever had such a poser put to me before," said Byrne. "It is the very difficulty of the problem that has induced me to seek your services," said Gerald. "I must put on my considering-cap," said Byrne. "I must sand-paper my brains." He was silent for a little while. Then he said, "I see no light at present--not the faintest gleam. You must let me have time to think about it--to smoke over it. My old pipe has made many a difficulty clear for me; perhaps it may help me in this one." "Take your own time, Mr. Byrne," said Murray. "When the light you seek is ready to come to you, it will come." "Yes; but I don't know where to look for it," said Byrne. "It will come of its own accord." Byrne shook his bead. "Poor fellow! he's just a bit touched yet," he said to himself. After a little more conversation, Gerald and Mr. Murray went. It was arranged that Byrne should write and let them know when he was ready to see them again. It was about a week later when they all met again by appointment. "Has the light come yet?" was Murray's first question.