I made short work of the business in my office which required attention. So absorbed was I in this mysterious Murder Mystery that I could not think seriously of any other subject. My advertisement for Philip Barlow had thus early unearthed three men of that name, whom I found in my office upon my arrival there. I confronted them with Mrs. Barlow, and they were immediately dismissed, much to their dissatisfaction. My second advertisement inquiring for Morgan, was dispatched to the newspaper offices, and I left with my clerk a memorandum of the age and birthday of Mrs. Barlow's son, which were to be the first questions put to all applicants of either name who presented themselves. Their answers not tallying with my memorandum, they were to be sent to the right-about. By these means a great deal of unnecessary trouble was avoided. At a quarter to twelve I sallied forth to keep my appointment with Jack, having first effected the requisite alteration in my appearance. My own clerk was startled when I emerged from my private room in the character of a costermonger, and was driven to say it was "the best thing I had ever done in the way of disguise." He was not far from the truth; I am always most successful when I depict the manners of the lower class. Jack himself was taken in when I slouched up to him and engaged him in conversation, and it was not till I spoke in my proper voice that he recognized me. "Well, I'm darned!" was his admiring exclamation. "Guv'nor, you ought to go on the stage." It was a genuine compliment, and I felt that I had achieved something great. If I don't make a fortune as a private inquiry agent I will go to the music halls and sing coster songs. "Well, Jack," said I, "do you still believe in your ghost?" "I'll take my oath on it," he replied. Then we went boldly forth, on the road to Finchley. First, however, in pursuance of the idea which set me laughing earlier that morning when I passed Madame Lourbet's shop, I turned the donkey's head in the direction of Soho, which was not much out of our way. I had the temerity to enter her shop with a couple of fine ferns, which I offered at so low a price that she was tempted to purchase them, but not before she had baited me down twopence a pot. The price she paid was eightpence. A shrewd woman at a bargain, this Madame Lourbet. Laughing in my sleeve I rejoined Jack, and we pursued our journey in search of Louis' ghost. It did not appear, and though I kept a sharp lookout I saw nothing of Maxwell. The only satisfaction I obtained was that the route taken by Jack was the same by which Wheeler had tracked the tall, dark man who had been concealed behind the green curtain in Madame Lourbet's shop. I returned home late at night, and completely tired out. A costermonger's life is not an easy one; he truly earns his livelihood by the sweat of his brow.