“I know—­I know!” said Breton.  “Yes—­although I’ve gone there a great deal, I never heard Aylmore speak of anything earlier than his Argentine experiences.  And yet, he must have been getting on when he went out there.”

“Thirty-seven or eight, at least,” remarked Spargo.  “Well, Aylmore’s more or less of a public man, and no public man can keep his life hidden nowadays.  By the by, how did you get to know the Aylmores?”

“My guardian, Mr. Elphick, and I met them in Switzerland,” answered Breton.  “We kept up the acquaintance after our return.”

“Mr. Elphick still interesting himself in the Marbury case?” asked Spargo.

“Very much so.  And so is old Cardlestone, at the foot of whose stairs the thing came off.  I dined with them last night and they talked of little else,” said Breton.

“And their theory—­”

“Oh, still the murder for the sake of robbery!” replied Breton.  “Old Cardlestone is furious that such a thing could have happened at his very door.  He says that there ought to be a thorough enquiry into every tenant of the Temple.”

“Longish business that,” observed Spargo.  “Well, run away now, Breton—­I must write.”

“Shall you be at Bow Street tomorrow morning?” asked Breton as he moved to the door.  “It’s to be at ten-thirty.”

“No, I shan’t!” replied Spargo.  “It’ll only be a remand, and I know already just as much as I should hear there.  I’ve got something much more important to do.  But you’ll remember what I asked of you—­get Aylmore to read my story in the Watchman, and beg him to speak out and tell all he knows—­all!”

And when Breton had gone, Spargo again murmured those last words:  “All he knows—­all!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MISS BAYLIS

Next day, a little before noon, Spargo found himself in one of those pretentious yet dismal Bayswater squares, which are almost entirely given up to the trade, calling, or occupation of the lodging and boarding-house keeper.  They are very pretentious, those squares, with their many-storied houses, their stuccoed frontages, and their pilastered and balconied doorways; innocent country folk, coming into them from the neighbouring station of Paddington, take them to be the residences of the dukes and earls who, of course, live nowhere else but in London.  They are further encouraged in this belief by the fact that young male persons in evening dress are often seen at the doorways in more or less elegant attitudes.  These, of course, are taken by the country folk to be young lords enjoying the air of Bayswater, but others, more knowing, are aware that they are Swiss or German waiters whose linen might be cleaner.