“My dear Ferguson, it is a question which some one will put to you. You should be prepared with an answer. It seems rather unfortunate that you should have quarrelled with him within an hour of his being done to death.” “I did not quarrel with him.” “No? What did you do then? Your unwillingness to reply shows that it was not on the best of terms you parted.” “I shall be ready to give all necessary information to any one entitled to ask for it.” “So you are in a position to give information? I see? And you think I am not entitled to ask? Oh! What, to your mind, would constitute a title?--a magistrate’s warrant? You don’t happen to know if any one saw him after you did?” “I believe that some one did.” Again he gave that quick glance upwards. “Who was it?” “I believe that his brother saw him.” “You believe! What makes you believe?” “I was told by Turner, the night-porter.” “When?” “Last night; or, rather, early this morning. I had occasion to use the lift. Turner told me that he had seen Mr. Lawrence’s brother go up, and that he had just come down again.” “What time was that?” “Between two and three.” “I fancy that before the clock struck two, or even one, this man was dead.” “I found this on the floor just before you came in.” I handed Hume the blood-grimed collar. “What is it? A collar?” As he turned it over he saw what I had seen. “Here’s a name--‘Philip Lawrence.’” “I believe that Philip is his brother’s name.” He looked at me with an unfriendly something in his glance. “What do you infer from that?” “I do not attempt to draw an inference.” “But your tone suggests. Do you suggest that when Philip Lawrence came to see his brother he took off his collar and left it behind him on the floor? Why?” “It must have been soaked with blood.” “Then you do suggest that Philip Lawrence left his collar behind because it was soaked with blood.” “I suggest nothing. I say that I saw it on the floor and picked it up; that’s all.” Hume stood up. “What else have you found?” I fenced with the question. I did not propose to speak of the gloves or the photograph, being conscious that Hume was prepared to make himself extremely disagreeable if occasion offered. “I have not looked. The collar lay staring at me on the floor; I could not help but see it.” “Then we will look together. In such a case as this, one never knows what ‘trifles light as air’ may prove ‘confirmation strong as Holy Writ.’ Here’s a waste-paper basket; let’s see what’s in it. More than one man has been sent to the gallows by a scrap of waste-paper. Here’s what appears to be a letter--not too carefully written. Let’s see what we can make of it. Hullo! what’s this?” He read from the scrap of paper he was holding: “‘Such men as you ought not to be allowed to live.’ That’s a strong assertion. And written by a woman, too, in a good, bold hand. I think I should recognise that caligraphy if I saw it again; wouldn’t you?”