Not infrequently I am put in charge of cases which are of small importance and might well be left to a less experienced man. I thought the mystery of Daniel Hardiman was such a case. I even went further and imagined that it was given to me because I was a bit under a cloud over the Parrish affair. Quarles jeered at my imagination and was interested from the outset, perhaps because he had had rather more of the Psychological Society than was good for him. Anyway, he traveled north with me to meet the liner _Slavonic_. On the passenger list was the name Daniel Hardiman. He had come on board at Montevideo in company with his man, John Bennett, who appeared to be half servant, half companion. They had only a small amount of personal luggage, one trunk each, but several stout packing-cases of various sizes had been stored away in the hold. Hardiman had a first-class cabin to himself; his man traveled second-class, but spent much of his time in his master's cabin; indeed, for the first few days of the voyage Hardiman was not seen except at meal times. It was said amongst the crew--probably the servant had mentioned the fact--that they were returning to England after an absence of many years, during which time they had lived much alone; and amongst the passengers it was agreed that there was something curious about the pair. There was speculation upon the promenade deck and in the smoking-room; the gossip was a pleasant interlude in the monotony of a long voyage. At the end of a week, however, Mr. Hardiman no longer stayed in his cabin. At first he paced the deck, thoughtfully, only in the early morning or late in the evening, but later was to be found in a deck-chair, either gazing fixedly at the horizon or interested in the games of the children on board. One sturdy youngster, when recovering a ball which had rolled to Hardiman's feet, spoke to him. All the answer he got was a nod of the head, but the boy had broken the ice, and two men afterwards scraped acquaintance with the curious traveler. One was a Mr. Majendie, who was going to England on business; the other Sir Robert Gibbs, a Harley Street specialist, who had broken down with hard work, and was making the round trip for the benefit of his health. By wireless, when the ship was two days from Liverpool, came the news that Hardiman had been murdered by his man-servant, and it was in consequence of this message that Christopher Quarles and I had gone north to meet the boat on its arrival. When we went on board the captain gave us the outline of Hardiman's behavior during the voyage as I have here set it down. Quarles asked him at once whether he thought that all the passengers, after landing, could be traced if necessary. The captain seemed to consider this rather a tall order, but thought all those who could possibly have had access to Mr. Hardiman might be traced. "It is a pity we cannot forbid any one to land until we like," said the professor.