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 have the result of leading me into the hands of the Big Four. The thing to do was to preserve an open mind, and whilst feigning credulity be secretly on my guard.

On arriving at St. Giles’ Hospital, and making my business known, I was taken at once to the accident ward, to the bedside of the man in question. He lay absolutely still, his eyelids closed, and only a very faint movement of the chest showed that he still breathed. A doctor stood by the bed, his fingers on the Chinaman’s pulse.

“He’s almost gone,” he whispered to me. “You know him, eh?”

I shook my head.

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“Then what was he doing with your name and address in his pocket? You are Captain Hastings, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I can’t explain it any more than you can.”

“Curious thing. From his papers he seems to have been the servant of a man called Ingles—a retired Civil Servant. Ah, you know him, do you?” he added quickly, as I started at the name.

Ingles’s servant! Then I had seen him before. Not that I had ever succeeded in being able to