“So far as my own opinion goes, Jake is a dead man,” said Gaylor. “He had been drinking with the Russian, who had quite a lot of money in his possession. A few minutes after they left the bar Litnoff was shot, and Jake, bolting for his life, was found in possession of a loaded pistol. Men have been hanged on less evidence than that.” “I--um--doubt it. Not the fact that men have been--er--hanged on insufficient evidence, but that our poor friend was the guilty person. Jake is a ‘regular,’ and regulars do not carry guns--not in this country.” Gaylor smiled significantly. “He was searching for you,” he said. “He admits as much, and that makes his present attitude a little queer. For now he wants you to get him out of his trouble!” “Dear me!” said Mr. Reeder, faintly amused. “He thinks if he could see you for a few minutes and tell you what happened, you would walk out of Brixton Prison and lay your hand upon the man who committed the murder. There’s a compliment for you!” “Seriously?” J.G. Reeder was frowning again. Gaylor nodded. “It’s rum, isn’t it? The fellow was undoubtedly on his way to give you hell and yet the first thing he does when he gets into trouble is to squeak to you for help! Anyway, the Public Prosecutor says he would like you to see him. Brixton has been notified. They know you there, and if you feel like listening to a few more or less fantastic lies, you ought to have an interesting evening.” He had in his pocket-book two press cuttings which fairly covered the Litnoff shooting. Mr. Reeder accepted them with every evidence of gratitude, although he had very complete particulars of the case in the drawer of his writing table. Gaylor had one quality which Mr. Reeder admired--he was no “lingerer.” There were many interesting people in the world who did not know where their interest ended: men who outstayed the excuse for their presence and dawdled from subject to subject. Gaylor was blessed with a sense of drama and could make his abrupt exit upon an effective line. He made such an exit now. “You needn’t ask him to tell you about the diamond clasp,” he said. “He’ll tell you that! But don’t forget that the last time Litnoff was charged that bizarre note came into the evidence.” Inspector Gaylor was a well read man and used words like “bizarre” without self-conscious effort. When he had gone, Mr. Reeder fixed his glasses and read the cuttings which the detective had left. He found nothing that he did not already know. Jake Alsby was, as he had said, a ‘regular’, an habitual criminal with a working knowledge of the common law in so far as it affected himself. No old lag carries firearms, especially an old lag who is a convict on licence, and is liable to be arrested at sight. Judges are most unsympathetic in their attitude toward armed criminals, and Jake and his fellows knew too well the penalties of illicit armament to take the dreadful risk of being found in possession of an automatic pistol.