“A murder has been committed—or what is as good as a murder, for the man, I believe, is at his last gasp,” he exultingly began. “There will be a hanging match—that is, if you can trace and capture the murderer. Now, Mr M^cGovan, you’re said to be clever, but you haven’t got him yet, and never will unless you get my help.” “Your help?” I echoed in amazement; “why, who are you, and how can you help me?” “My name you know, and I am not unknown to fame, I am an actor as well as a photographic artist. I have trod the boards with some success, and you know that that in itself is a kind of training in acuteness eminently fitting one for detective work.” I could not see it, and said so. I thought him an escaped lunatic. “Mark me, Mr M^cGovan,” he continued, quite unabashed, “I have in my possession the only means whereby you can trace and arrest the murderer. Now just tell me what it is worth, and we may come to a bargain.” “What it is worth?” I said, with a grin. “I don’t know that it is worth anything till I try it.” “A hundred pounds? Surely they’ll offer that as a reward for such information as shall lead to the capture of the murderer?” “I don’t know that they’ll offer a hundred pence,” was my reply. “Tell me what you know, and if it is of any use I will see that you are suitably rewarded.” “Ah, that won’t suit me,” he answered with great decision. “I will leave you to think over my offer; you know where to find me when you have made up your mind.” He was moving off, after making a low and stagey bow, but I got between him and the door, and brought out a pair of handcuffs. “I know where to find you now, which is far more convenient,” I quietly remarked. “You have admitted that you know something of the murder—I shall detain you on suspicion.” “What! arrest me? an innocent man; lock me up in prison!” he exclaimed, in genuine terror. “You cannot—dare not! I know nothing of the murder; I merely think I can put you in the way of tracing the man who did it.” “Do so, then, if you would prove your innocence,” I said, rather amused at his terror and dismay. “Were you an accomplice?” “An accomplice! how can you ask such a question?” he tremblingly answered. “You are taking a mean advantage of me, for I feel sure that my secret is worth a hundred pounds at least. But I will trust to your honour, and put it all before you. People will give _you_ all the credit. Everyone will say ‘M^cGovan is the man that can do it; we might have known he wouldn’t escape when M^cGovan was after him.’ Nobody will think of me, or hear of me, who have given you the clue. It’s the way of the world; one man toils, and ploughs, and sows, and another man reaps the harvest.” “Ah, nothing pleases me so much as envy, flavoured with a little spitefulness,” I quietly returned. “It is the most flattering unction you can lay to a man’s soul.” “I am not envious,” he dolefully replied, “but it is hard to supply another with brains.”