“Listen to this,” he said curtly, and read. It was the editorial of the _Morning Monitor_ and it was direct to a point of offensiveness. “‘For the second time during the past year the country has been shocked and outraged by the assassination of a prominent man. It is not necessary to give here the details of this Crimson Circle crime, particulars of which appear on another page. But it is very necessary that we should state in emphatic and unmistakable terms that we view with consternation the seeming helplessness of police head-quarters to deal with this criminal gang. Inspector Parr, who has devoted himself for the past year to tracking the murdering blackmailers, can offer us nothing more than vague promises of revelations which never materialise. It is obvious that police head-quarters needs a thorough overhauling, and the introduction of new blood, and we trust that those responsible for the government of the country, will not hesitate to make the drastic changes which are necessary.’” “Well,” growled Colonel Morton, “what do you think of that, Parr?” Mr. Parr rubbed his big chin and said nothing. “James Beardmore was murdered after due warning had been given to the police,” said the Commissioner deliberately. “He was shot within sight of his house, and the murderer is at large. This is the second bad case, Parr, and I’ll tell you candidly that it is my intention to act on the advice which this newspaper gives.” He tapped the cutting suggestively. “On the previous occasion you allowed Mr. Yale to get away with all the kudos for the capture of the murderer. You have seen Mr. Yale, I presume?” The detective nodded. “And what does he say?” Mr. Parr shifted uneasily on his feet. “He told me a lot of nonsense about a dark man with toothache.” “How did he get that?” asked the Commissioner quickly. “From the shell of the cartridge he found on the ground,” said the detective. “I don’t take any notice of this psychometrical stuff----” The Commissioner leant back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t think you take notice of any stuff that is serviceable, Parr,” he said, “and don’t sneer at Yale. That man has unusual and peculiar gifts. The fact that you don’t understand them, does not make them any less peculiar.” “Do you mean to say, sir,” said Parr, stirred into protest, “that a man can take a cartridge in his hand and tell you from that the appearance of the person who last handled it and what he was thinking about? Why, it is absurd!” “Nothing is absurd,” said the Commissioner quietly. “The science of psychometry has been practised for years. Some people, unusually sensitive to impression, are able to tell the most remarkable things, and Yale is one of these.” “He was there when the murder was committed,” replied Parr. “He was with Mr. Beardmore’s son, not a hundred yards away, and yet he did not catch the murderer.” The Commissioner nodded.