"The mention of a name familiar down the length of the street had caused two or three other men to come forward and to look more closely into the horribly distorted mask of the murdered man. "'Our next-door neighbour, undoubtedly,' asserted Mr. Ellison, a young barrister, residing at No. 31. "'What in the world was he doing this foggy night all alone, and on foot?' asked somebody else. "'He usually came home very late. I fancy he belonged to some gambling club in town. I dare say he couldn't get a cab to bring him out here. Mind you, I don't know much about him. We only knew him to nod to.' "'Poor beggar! it looks almost like an old-fashioned case of garroting.' "'Anyway, the blackguardly murderer, whoever he was, wanted to make sure he had killed his man!' added Constable F 18, as he picked up an object from the pavement. 'Here's the revolver, with two cartridges missing. You gentlemen heard the report just now?' "'He don't seem to have hit him though. The poor bloke was strangled, no doubt.' "'And tried to shoot at his assailant, obviously,' asserted the young barrister with authority. "'If he succeeded in hitting the brute, there might be a chance of tracing the way he went.' "'But not in the fog.' "Soon, however, the appearance of the inspector, detective, and medical officer, who had quickly been informed of the tragedy, put an end to further discussion. "The bell at No. 30 was rung, and the servants--all four of them women--were asked to look at the body. "Amidst tears of horror and screams of fright, they all recognized in the murdered man their master, Mr. Aaron Cohen. He was therefore conveyed to his own room pending the coroner's inquest. "The police had a pretty difficult task, you will admit; there were so very few indications to go by, and at first literally no clue. "The inquest revealed practically nothing. Very little was known in the neighbourhood about Mr. Aaron Cohen and his affairs. His female servants did not even know the name or whereabouts of the various clubs he frequented. "He had an office in Throgmorton Street and went to business every day. He dined at home, and sometimes had friends to dinner. When he was alone he invariably went to the club, where he stayed until the small hours of the morning. "The night of the murder he had gone out at about nine o'clock. That was the last his servants had seen of him. With regard to the revolver, all four servants swore positively that they had never seen it before, and that, unless Mr. Cohen had bought it that very day, it did not belong to their master. "Beyond that, no trace whatever of the murderer had been found, but on the morning after the crime a couple of keys linked together by a short metal chain were found close to a gate at the opposite end of the Square, that which immediately faced Portland Place. These were proved to be, firstly, Mr. Cohen's latch-key, and, secondly, his gate-key of the Square.