"It is a mystery why the man who was once my faithful servant should be enticed to that wood and stabbed to the heart." "There is no one in the vicinity who knew him ?" "Not to my knowledge." "We might obtain his address in London through his father in Leghorn," suggested the officer.
"I will write to-day if you so desire," I said readily.

"Indeed, I will get my friend the British Consul to go round and see the old man and telegraph the address if he obtains it." "Capital!" he declared.

"If you will do us this favor we shall be greatly indebted to you.

It is fortunate that we have established the victim's identity--otherwise we might be entirely in the dark.

A murdered foreigner is always more or less of a mystery." Therefore, then and there, I took a sheet of paper and wrote to my old friend Hutcheson at Leghorn, asking him to make immediate inquiry of Olinto's father as to his son's address in London.
I said nothing to the police of that strange adventure of mine over in Lambeth, or of how the man now dead had saved my life.