"I am Lawrence Guthrie," explained the young man, "and yesterday, much against my inclinations, but to prevent Graham's exposing the state of my affairs to my father, I was forced to leave with him, as security for fifty pounds, a Turkish yataghan worth considerably more." "Stop! When I came to your Bart's last night, what did I tell you?" "That Graham had been murdered with my yataghan." "Well?" "You said that the crime looked like the work of an old hand, for the murderer had worn gloves. You told me that you had recognised, in one of the victim's most important creditors, a notorious French criminal, Andre Legun----" The Count, deathly pale, his throbbing forehead wet as if douched, drew a long, hissing breath. His eyes stared glassily at Dr. Lepardo. "By what means?" "By certain facial peculiarities." "Rule 85." "And particularly by a vein in his left temple, only visible when he was roused. You had secured, by a trick----" "Article Six." "An imprint of his thumb upon a cheque. This you had compared with certain in your possession--and forwarded to Paris." "Unnecessary, but a usual form." "You had secured from the grate in his study a pocketful of ash, some scraps of torn leather--bloodstained--and some few other fragments. These you and I spent the night examining and arranging. Amongst the ashes was a patent glove button, also bloodstained." "What have I yet to find?" "A pair of boots." "I depart to find them." Dr. Lepardo quitted the room. Count de Guise followed him with his eyes until he had disappeared. No one spoke nor stirred until the brown old doctor returned, carrying a pair of glace kid boots. He placed them on the table beside the bag and pointed a long finger at a gap in one row of buttons. "Scotland Yard can complete the set, Andre," he said with grim humour. "In this bag are the results of our examination. In your grate are more ashes and fragments for the English Home Office to check us by. In this bag is a complete account of how you came to Moorgate Place, knocked at Gottschalk's door and were admitted. I do not know how you had _meant_ to kill him, but the yataghan, left on his table by Mr. Guthrie, was tempting, eh? You then commenced to collect certain letters and papers, Andre. You tore from his private book the page containing your little account. Then you tore out others, to blind us all. You had begun upon the letter files when you were interrupted by one entering with a key. That was fortunate. It was file G you had commenced upon, Andre. And one of the torn pages was G. So I knew that you were a G, too, my friend. With what you took from the safe and with the letters and other papers, you slipped down the back stair you knew of into Copthall Avenue. By my great good luck, and not by my skill, I get upon your trail. But by my skill I trap you." The prisoner, whose handsome face now had assumed a leaden hue, whose eyes were set in a fixed stare of horror and hatred, spoke slowly, clearly.