“Well,” returned Rathbury, hesitatingly, “I hadn’t, up to now.  But now—­now, after what you’ve told me, I think I can make one.  It seems to me that after Marbury left Aylmore he probably mooned about by himself, that he was decoyed into the Temple, and was there murdered and robbed.  There are a lot of queer ins and outs, nooks and corners in that old spot, Mr. Spargo, and the murderer, if he knew his ground well, could easily hide himself until he could get away in the morning.  He might be a man who had access to chambers or offices—­think how easy it would be for such a man, having once killed and robbed his victim, to lie hid for hours afterwards?  For aught we know, the man who murdered Marbury may have been within twenty feet of you when you first saw his dead body that morning.  Eh?”

Before Spargo could reply to this suggestion an official entered the room and whispered a few words in the detective’s ear.

“Show him in at once,” said Rathbury.  He turned to Spargo as the man quitted the room and smiled significantly.  “Here’s somebody wants to tell something about the Marbury case,” he remarked.  “Let’s hope it’ll be news worth hearing.”

Spargo smiled in his queer fashion.

“It strikes me that you’ve only got to interest an inquisitive public in order to get news,” he said.  “The principal thing is to investigate it when you’ve got it.  Who’s this, now?”

The official had returned with a dapper-looking gentleman in a frock-coat and silk hat, bearing upon him the unmistakable stamp of the city man, who inspected Rathbury with deliberation and Spargo with a glance, and being seated turned to the detective as undoubtedly the person he desired to converse with.

“I understand that you are the officer in charge of the Marbury murder case,” he observed.  “I believe I can give you some valuable information in respect to that.  I read the account of the affair in the Watchman newspaper this morning, and saw the portrait of the murdered man there, and I was at first inclined to go to the Watchman office with my information, but I finally decided to approach the police instead of the Press, regarding the police as being more—­more responsible.”

“Much obliged to you, sir,” said Rathbury, with a glance at Spargo.  “Whom have I the pleasure of——­”

“My name,” replied the visitor, drawing out and laying down a card, “is Myerst—­Mr. E.P.  Myerst, Secretary of the London and Universal Safe Deposit Company.  I may, I suppose, speak with confidence,” continued Mr. Myerst, with a side-glance at Spargo.  “My information is—­confidential.”

Rathbury inclined his head and put his fingers together.

“You may speak with every confidence, Mr. Myerst,” he answered.  “If what you have to tell has any real bearing on the Marbury case, it will probably have to be repeated in public, you know, sir.  But at present it will be treated as private.”