"Because he has red hair and a crafty face," said Fanks, coolly.
"No; because he loves Florry."
"How do you know?"
"I think so."
"Ah, that's theory," replied Fanks, nodding his head; "purely theoretical, if you like. Well, we must be off."
"Where to?"
"To test your theory. I'm going to see Mr. Jackson Spolger."
"He'll tell you nothing," said Axton, putting on his coat.
"Perhaps not; but his face may. He's a nervous man. Japix told me that, so if he knows anything about this murder, he may betray himself unconsciously. Come along."
So they went down into the sloppy street and hired a cab, but just as they were going to step in, Fanks suddenly darted to the window of a brougham standing a short distance away. It was a large brougham, and contained a large man, who put out his head when he saw Fanks, and roared out a welcome in a stentorian voice: