Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1920-01-19
THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER
A Detective Story byJ. S. Fletcher

N"iioSiIy, put tnere was also q natural
dislike that fellow being should have
'ecn so uncercmoniously smitten out of
ne world.
| Ihere was nothing very remarkable
ABOUT the dead mans face. 1t was that
Oh man of apparently sixty to sixty
I'VE years OF age; plain, even homely of
feature, clean shaven, except for n
fringe OF white whisker, trimmed. after
an olc- fashioned pattern, between the
ear and the point of the jaw. The only
remarkable thing about it was that IL
was much lined and scanned; the wrin-
kles were many and deep around the cor :
ners OF the lips and the angles of the
eyes TINS man, you would have said to
yourself, has led hard life and wealth :
Greg storm, mental as we'll as physical.
Driscoil nudged Spargo with turn
OF MS elbow. He gave him wink.
Better come down to the deadhouse," !"
he muttered confiGentially.
''Why?' asked Spargo.
they'll 60 through him." whispered
you'll get to know all about him. and
SO on. Help to write that piece in the
paper, eh?"'
Spargo hesitated He had had a stiff
nights work, and until his encounter
with Driscoll he had cherished warm an
tlcipation OF the meal which would be
,ala out Tor him at his rooms, and of the
pee into which he would subsequently
tumble. Besides a telephone message
would send man from the Watcbman
to the mortuary. This sort Of thing
was not in his line now, now
You'll be for getting one O. them
big play cards out with something about
mystery on it," suggested Driscoll.
You never know what lies ut the bot
tom O. these affairs, no more you don't. {"
That last observation decided Spargo (;
moreover, the old instinct for getting
news began to assert itself.
."All right" he said. "I'll go along
with you."
And relighting his pipe he followed
the little cortege through the streets,
still deserted and quiet, and as he walked
behind he reflected on the unobtrusive
fashion in which murder could stalk
about. Here was the work of murder,
no doubt. and it was being quietly car
fare, without fuss or noise, by officials
to whom the dealing with it was all q
matter of routine. Surely
My, opinion" said a voice at
Spargos elbow, "my opinion is that it
wis done elsewhere. Not there! He
was put there. That's what I say,''
Spargo turned and saw that the porter
was at his side. He, too, was accom-
panying the body.
"Oh J" said Sparge. "You think
II think he was struck down else
where and carried there" said the
porter. ''In somebody's chambers, may
be. I've known of some queer games il
our bit of. London! Well--he never
came in at my lodge last nightly
stand to that. And who is he, should
like to know? From what / see OF
him, not the sort to be about our place
That's what we shall hear pres
emily" said Spargo. They're going to
| But Spargo was presently made aware
that the searchers had. found nothing
The police surgeon said that the deac
man had, without doubt. been struck
down from behind by terrible blow
which had fractured the skull ant
caused death almost instantaneously, II
DriscolPs opinion, the murder had beer
committed for the sake Of plumber. Fol
there was nothing whatever on the body
1t was reasonable to suppose that maj
who is well dressed would possess d,
watch and chain, and have money il
his pockets, and possibly rings on hi
| fingers. But there was nothing valuable
to be found in fact, there was nothin,
at all to be found that could lead tt
identification-no letters, no papers
nothing. 1t was plain that whoever haC
struck the dead man down had subse
quently stripped him of whatever was
on him. The only clue to possible
identity lay in the fact that soft cal
of gray cloth appeared to have beer
newly purchased at a fashionable shol
in the West End.
Spargo went home; there seemed t.
be nothing to stop for. He ate his fooc
and he went to bed, only to do poo
things in the way of sleeping. He wa
not the sort to be impressed by horrors
but he recognized at last that the morn
ing's event had destroyed his chance o
rest; he accordingly rose. took a coll
bath, drank a cup of coffee, and wen
out. He was not sure of any particula
idea when he strolled away iron
Bloomsbury, but it did not surprise hin
when, half an hour later, he found tina
he had walked down to the police sta
ton near which the unknown man
body lay in the mortuary. And ther
he met Driscoll, Just going off duty
Driscoll grinned at sight of him.
You're in luck" ne said. 'Tisn'
five minutes since they found bit O
gray writing paper crumpled up in tn,
poor mans waistcoat pocket-it haC
slipped into crack. Come in and you i
see it,
Spargo went into the inspectors of
flee. In another minute he found him
self staring at the scrap of paper. Ther,
was nothing on it but an address
scrawled in pencil-Ronald Breton
Barrister, Kings Bench Walk, Temple
London.