Vinnis, dumb with terror and rage, listened to the crisp tones of the detective as he detailed the particulars of an almost forgotten crime. It was the story of a country house burglary, a man-servant who surprised the thief, a fight in the dark, a shot and a dead man lying in the big drawing-room. It was an ordinary little tragedy, forgotten by everybody save Scotland Yard; but year by year unknown men had pieced together the scraps of evidence that had come to them; strand by strand had the rope been woven that was to hang a cold-blooded murderer; last of all came the incoherent letter from a jealous woman--Scotland Yard waits always for a jealous woman--and the evidence was complete. “Put him in No. 14,” said the inspector. Then Vinnis woke up, and the six men on duty in the charge room found their time fully occupied. * * * * * Vinnis was arrested, as Angel Esquire put it, “in the ordinary way of business.” Hundreds of little things happen daily at Scotland Yard in the ordinary way of business which, apparently unconnected one with the other, have an extraordinary knack of being in some remote fashion related. A burglary at Clapham was remarkable for the fact that a cumbersome mechanical toy was carried away in addition to other booty. A street accident in the Kingsland Road led to the arrest of a drunken carman. In the excitement of the moment a sneak-thief purloined a parcel from the van, was chased and captured. A weeping wife at the police station gave him a good character as husband and father. “Only last week he brought my boy a fine performin’ donkey.” An alert detective went home with her, recognized the mechanical toy from the description, and laid by the heels the notorious “Kingsland Road Lot.” The arrest of Vinnis was totally unconnected with Angel’s investigations into the mystery of Reale’s millions. He knew him as a “Borough man,” but did not associate him with the search for the word. None the less, there are certain formalities attached to the arrest of all bad criminals. Angel Esquire placed one or two minor matters in the hands of subordinates, and in two days one of these waited upon him in his office. “The notes, sir,” said the man, “were issued to Mr. Spedding on his private account last Monday morning. Mr. Spedding is a lawyer, of the firm of Spedding, Mortimer and Larach.” “Have you seen Mr. Spedding?” he asked. “Yes, sir. Mr. Spedding remembers drawing the money and paying it away to a gentleman who was sailing to America.” “A client?” “So far as I can gather,” said the subordinate, “the money was paid on behalf of a client for services. Mr. Spedding would not particularize.” Angel Esquire made a little grimace. “Lawyers certainly do queer things,” he said dryly. “Does Mr. Spedding offer any suggestion as to how the money came into this man’s possession?”