“I do, indeed. In fact, Inspector Whyland and I discussed the point, long ago. It might be possible to imagine a motive for the murder of a group of men who were inspired by a common motive or who belonged to some common society. The difficulty is, assuming that the agency which compassed their deaths was the same in each case, to imagine a motive for the actions of that agency.” “Exactly!” exclaimed Hanslet warmly. “I see that you appreciate my point as clearly as I do myself. But now we have a fresh line of investigation. You yourself are added to the list of those who have received the counter. Can you explain why you should have been singled out?” Mr. Ludgrove shook his head. “As you may suppose, the subject has occupied my thoughts ever since I found the counter,” he replied. “I am an old man, as I have said before, and for the last twenty years or more I have led a retired life, retired, I mean, in the sense that I have taken no part in the affairs of the world. I have had enemies as well as friends; few men who have reached my years could say otherwise. But most of the contemporaries of my youth are dead, and in any case I do not believe that any of the enemies I may have made would be so vindictive as to seek my life.” “Let us look at it another way, then,” said Hanslet. “Can you imagine any way in which you, in common with the six men who have already died, could have made an unconscious enemy?” “I cannot,” replied Mr. Ludgrove. “Of those six men, I knew only two personally, Mr. Copperdock fairly well, and Mr. Colburn slightly. Both of these I have known only since I came to live in Praed Street, five years ago. Tovey, I had heard Copperdock speak of. The name of Richard Pargent, I had seen mentioned in the newspapers. The other two were complete strangers to me. I cannot imagine how we could have committed any act in common which would draw down upon us the vengeance of a single assassin.” “Then you do not believe that these deaths are the work of a single assassin, Mr. Ludgrove?” enquired Hanslet with interest. “Not of a single man, acting upon any rational motive,” replied Mr. Ludgrove. “Even in the brain of a homicidal maniac there is usually traceable some dim guiding principle. He either conceives a hatred for a certain class of person, or he kills indiscriminately, usually selecting the people nearest to hand. In this case the selection was anything, but indiscriminate. Mind, I am assuming for the moment, as apparently you are yourself, that the death of all six was the direct sequel of their receipt of a numbered counter. If you adopt the theory that a single man is responsible, you may as well believe in the existence of the black sailor.” “I am afraid that we are already committed to him,” said Hanslet with a smile. “You see, we offered a reward for him, and it would never do for the police to admit that they had offered a reward for a ghost. Whyland, what is your honest opinion of this black sailor?”