there there is absolutely no point whence one can start."
"Why not start from the red-headed man?" suggested Frank.
"Why," said Torry, pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger, "I might do that if he had not been disguised."
"Disguised?"
"Yes; the red hair is a wig, the red beard is false. The deceased is a gentleman of some age nearer sixty than fifty. He has a plump face and a bald head with a fringe of white hair--something like me," said Mr. Torry in parenthesis, "only my hair is brown. The man is clean-shaven and has several teeth stopped with gold."
"You think he is--or rather was--a gentleman?"
"I'm sure of it. His hands and feet are carefully attended to, and his linen is beyond reproach."
"Ha! His linen. Is there no mark on it?"
"There is. He changed his outward garments, but not his linen or socks--which shows that he was an amateur in disguising himself. A man who was in the habit of masquerading for evil purposes would have changed from top to toe. But this poor creature, not expecting to be murdered, never thought it was necessary to change anything but his outward aspect."
"Is there a name on his shirt, then?"
"No; there are initials. On his shirt, his undershirt, his pants, and on his socks are two letters, 'J.G.'"
"The initials of his name."
"I should think so," replied Torry. "All his underclothes are in good taste and of an expensive quality. I judge him to be a rich man."
"You speak of him in the present instead of the past," said Darrel grimly. "He is not a man now, but a thing. Well, Mr. Torry, can't you trace his identity by those initials?"
"Doubtless; especially as the name of the firm who made the shirt is stamped on the neck of it--Harcot and Harcot, of Bond-street. Oh, I don't think there will be any difficulty in identifying the man; but it will be more difficult to discover the name of the woman."
"I don't think so," argued Darrel. "The one crime includes the other. Find out the motive of the woman in killing the man, and you will doubtless be led to discover the reason she was killed herself. I should begin from the clue of the initials."
"Perhaps I will," said Torry thoughtfully; "and failing that clue, I'll try the other."
"The other! What other?"
"Why," said the detective, looking directly at his companion, "the clue of the Blue Mummy."
CHAPTER III
MR. TORRY'S THEORY
"The Blue Mummy," repeated Darrel wonderingly; "what do you mean?"
"Why!" said the detective, "I should rather say, the clue of the two Blue Mummies. Here they are."
Out of his pocket, Torry produced two little clay images in the shape of mummies, each six inches in length, and coloured a deep blue. The lifeless faces, the swathings and bandages of the rigid forms, were perfectly modelled in clay, and on the breast of each was a representation of the sun rayed round with spiral flames. These idol-s--as they doubtless were--appeared to be of great antiquity, and were, undoubtedly, fine specimens of ceramic art. That the relics of a dead and gone civilisation should be connected with a modern criminal case, amazed Frank not a little.
"Egyptian workmanship without doubt," said he, examining one of the little figures, "although I am not learned in such matters. Where did you get them?"
"One was found in the pocket of the dead woman, the other on the ground near the body of the man. Another proof, to my mind, that there is a connection between the two crimes."
"Curious," murmured Darrel, his eyes fixed on one of the images. "I wonder what they symbolise. If we could learn we might discover the motive for this double crime."
"You don't know the meaning of these idols, I suppose, sir?"
Darrel shook his head. "No," said he, "but I am acquainted with an Egyptologist who might tell us all about them. I'll take them to him if you like, Mr. Torry."
"Take one, as they are precisely the same," replied the prudent detective, "and ask your friend what it represents; some god no doubt. But look here, Mr. Darrel," added Torry in a livelier tone, "I have answered all your questions, now you must reply to some of mine."
"Willingly. What is it you wish to know?"
"Tell me all that took place, from the time you saw the red-headed man in Drury-lane until the moment you discovered his dead body."
To this natural request Darrel assented at once, and narrated his Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, adventure in Drury-lane. The detective listened in silence, his keen eyes fixed on the narrator, and when Darrel ceased he put a series of questions to him, noting the replies to the same in a little book. It may be here remarked that Mr. Torry used a cypher known to no one but himself; so, even if he lost his pocket-book, there was no chance of its contents becoming known.
"You say that this man spoke like an educated gentleman?"
"Certainly; his accent was most refined."
"At what time did he address you first?"
"Shortly after twelve o'clock."
"How long did it take you to walk to Mortality-lane?"
"Ten minutes, more or less, I should think. Altogether it was twenty minutes past midnight when he left me."
"The drive to throw you off the scent took some time, I suppose?"
Darrel calculated. "About forty minutes, more or less," he said. "We got back to Mortality-lane shortly after the clock struck one. Then I had some talk with the cabman who had misled me, according to instructions, and I remember him saying he was going home, because it was after one o'clock."
"Then the murder must have been committed between half-past twelve and one o'clock in the morning?"
"Yes, I am sure it was. Bike and myself found the corpse shortly after one o'clock. It was still warm," said Darrel, with a shudder.
"The red-haired man was not at his ease with you, I suppose?"
"On the contrary, he kept a safe distance between us, and all the time he had his right hand in the breast of his coat."
"Oh, that was a revolver," said Torry indifferently, "we found it when the body was searched. But," added the detective with emphasis, "we did not find the valuables he carried."
"Valuables! What valuables?"
"I can't say. Papers, or jewels, or money; one of the three, I am certain!"
"But what reason have you to think that he carried valuables?" asked Darrel becoming the questioner in his turn.
Torry shrugged his plump shoulders. "He wouldn't
