The golden sunshine of July passed into the mellower maturity of August. August in its turn yielded place to the quieter beauty of September and russet-brown October reigned at due season in the latter’s stead. The mystery of the murder of Sheila Delaney—in the words of the cheaper Press—the “Dentist’s-Chair Murder” yet remained unsolved. The “Daily Bugle” continued its bugling. Sir Austin Kemble allowed himself at various odd times to dwell somewhat bitterly upon the vaticination of Mr. Bathurst and at other times was sorely taxed to restrain his growing impatience. Chief-Inspector Bannister was doomed to suffer the biggest disappointment of his hitherto distinguished career. The day for his retirement from his high position in the Criminal Investigation Department arrived after the manner of Time and Tide, and he was no nearer to arresting Sheila Delaney’s slayer when that eventful day came than he had been on the fateful July evening when Sergeant Godfrey had dragged him into the case. Sir Austin shook hands with him in farewell and shrugged his aristocratic shoulders in rather cynical commiseration. “I know how keen you were, Bannister, to complete your Seabourne case and I also know the many difficulties against which you have been forced to contend. The fact that you have failed is merely to be deplored—that is all. To err is human. You take with you my very best wishes. Good-bye.” Thus the mantle of Bannister fell upon Macmorran, and after the manner of mantles apparently made an excellent fit. Bannister however had not relinquished the trail altogether. Mr. Bathurst read his letter with undisguised interest. He also replied to it immediately. “My dear Bannister,” he wrote, “Hearty congratulations upon your well-earned retirement. Which is it to be? The Sussex Downs or the entrancing West Country? I am perfectly certain that either would be graced by your presence. In relation to the question that you raise with regard to the somewhat baffling case that exercised our joint intelligences a few months ago—please don’t worry, you may rely on me. Rest assured that I should never attempt to conclude my case without acquainting you and inviting your valuable co-operation. I have too much admiration for Scotland Yard in general and incidentally yourself in particular. Also it might prove too big for me to adopt any other methods single-handed. I told you whom I suspected upon the occasion of our last meeting. You alone know of that suspicion. I am still waiting now, as I was at the time that I gave you my confidence. Hold yourself in readiness to move at a moment’s notice. When that time comes I will communicate with you. Then my dear Bannister—we will taste success! And till then—— “Faithfully yours, “Anthony L. Bathurst.”