The newspapers on the Wednesday and Thursday were beyond my understanding. I had never before so clearly realised how great a stir a little thing might make. The little incident at Three Bridges had assumed the dimensions of an event of national importance. Had one of the great decisive battles of the world just been fought it could scarcely have seemed to occupy a greater space in the public mind. Everywhere the words stared you in the face, everywhere you heard the words slipping from somebody's tongue--Three Bridges Tragedy! At least the thing received a magnificent advertisement. What a heap of money would have been required to procure a similar advertisement for Pickemup's Pills.

They appeared to have got the business into an elegant muddle. Either the luck was on my side, or some one had blundered. People seemed to have leaped to the conclusion that Louise had been thrown from a passing train--my pitching the body over the hedge on to the railway embankment, read by the light of after events, amounted to a stroke of inspiration. The papers were full of observations on the dangers of English railway travelling. Why were not our carriages all thrown open to the world? Our present system of horse-boxes rendered it possible for the innocent A. to be cooped up with the dangerous B. through sixty miles of country. The means provided for inter-communication, the alarm-bell, and all the rest of it, were fatally insufficient, as witness this most horrid instance. As I read I stared.

From my point of view the most extraordinary part of the affair was that there actually seemed some excuse for the public blundering. Immediately after the arrival at Victoria of the 8.40 from Brighton, it had been discovered that the window of one of the first-class carriages was smashed to shivers, the compartment was stained with blood, and bore every appearance of having been the scene of a recent struggle. That was the very train which had passed while Louise and I had been arguing at the gate--had another little argument been taking place on board the train? But what capped the record was a statement which had been volunteered by a Brighton porter. He declared--or was stated to have declared--that he had shown a lady into the identical compartment in which the window was smashed, just as the train was starting; that the only other passenger the compartment contained was a gentleman, whom, if he saw him again, he thought he should recognise; and--mirabile dictum! he had seen the body which had been found on the line, and in the dead woman had instantly recognised the lady he had shown into the carriage. The question now was--all the world was asking it--where was the gentleman?

Yes--where was he?

On the Thursday I received another line from Groeden--"Sell Boomjopfs." This recalled to my mind the fact that, by the Monday morning's post, he had counselled me to buy them. I had started Citywards to act on his advice. The curious coincidence of finding Mr. Tennant scribbling Louise's name all over a sheet of paper had prevented my putting my intention into execution.

Groeden's latest advice sent me to the money article. Since Monday Boomjopfs had gone up fourteen. What an ass I had truly been! A pretty pile I had thrown away! What little game Mr. Groeden and his friends at Johannesburg were up to, I was not sufficiently in the know to be able to say. I took it that, the bulls having had an innings, the bears were to have their turn. The top price having been reached, the word was "Knock 'em." So off I went to sell what I had been fool enough to just miss buying.

I thought that I would give Tennant another try. When I reached Austin Friars I was informed that he was ill--had been away from the office since Monday. While I was hesitating what I should do--whether, that is, I should give a commission to his managing man, or go elsewhere--I heard a voice in the inner office which rather made me cock my ears.

The voice was my rascally brother's. He was not speaking in a whisper. His words struck me as queer ones.

"If Mr. Tennant takes my advice, he'll see me though he's dying."

"I shall see Mr. Tennant at his private address to-night. I will tell him what you say. What name shall I give?"

"Name? Tell him the gentleman who came up with him on Sunday night from Brighton."

I went out into the street, still not clear in my mind as to what I should do. Presently, along came Alexander. But what a change had come over him since Monday! Then he was a faded ruin; now he was a vision of splendour. He was arrayed in new garments from top to toe--and not garments which had been procured at a slop-shop either. Alexander must have come into a fortune. The glory of him made one blink one's eyes.

Again, at sight of me he did not seem glad.

"Still out?" I began.

"Sir!" He pulled his hat more over to the side of his head. "Allow me to point out to you that the fact of your being my brother does not entitle you to insult me. May I ask what you mean by saying 'Still out'?"

"My dear Alexander, is it possible that you can think me capable of insulting you? I am only too glad to see that you still are out. And in such gorgeous apparel! What universal provider have you been inspiring with confidence?"

He drew his imitation astrachan cuffs further down over his wrists.

"I believe, my dear Reginald, that I informed you on Monday that I am a private detective on a considerable scale. As such, it is part of my business to wear disguises. You saw me in one of them on Monday. At this moment I am in my usual attire."

"Indeed! and excellently it becomes you. Almost anybody might mistake you for a respectable person. Alexander, by the way, what was that you were saying about your having come up with Mr. Tennant on Sunday night from Brighton?"

Alexander looked at me for a moment as if my question had knocked the sense right out of him. Then, without a word, turning into a narrow passage which was on our right, he walked off down it at the rate of a good five miles an hour. I let him go, though what had sent him off in such a style at such a pace was hidden from me.

I did sell Boomjopfs, but not through Mr. Tennant's managing man.

That night was to be the second meeting of the club. I dressed when I got home: then I put my proofs into my pocket. After a solitary dinner I started off to give back to the Club its Honour.