Finally, neither of the Miss Pargents could throw the faintest glimmer of light upon the affair. Their brother was not the type of man to have secrets from his family. Both sisters appeared to know the inner history of every moment of his life since infancy, and insisted upon dispensing the knowledge at great length. As to his having an enemy in the world, the thing was absurd. He was a very retiring man, who lived only for his work, and had never sought adventure beyond the narrow bounds of the family circle. Inspector Whyland came away from his last interview with the sisters—for Miss Margaret had been prevailed upon to come up to London—convinced that it would have been impossible for the dead man to have embarked upon any clandestine enterprise without the knowledge of one or other of them. He was equally unsuccessful in finding any link between Richard Pargent and any of the inhabitants of Praed Street. Their names were utterly unfamiliar to either of the sisters, and Mr. Pargent’s only connection with Praed Street appeared to be that he occasionally passed along it in a bus. Inspector Whyland was convinced that the same hand that had struck down Mr. Tovey, had killed Richard Pargent, and probably Mr. Colburn, though the receipt of the counter was the only link in the latter case. But what could be the motive for the murder of these three men, so entirely disconnected from one another? And, if one adopted the theory of a homicidal maniac, the difficulty was scarcely diminished. Homicidal maniacs either kill indiscriminately, or, as in the classic case of Jack the Ripper, they attack a certain class or type. Yet the receipt of the numbered counters implied some process of definite selection. Upon what possible grounds could such a selection be based?