"Yes, thrust into the heart--devilish queer case. The Morning Planet seems to think the unfortunate beggar came from India."
"Who told the 'M.P.' so?"
"No one, apparently; it is a theory based on the fact that the man's clothes smelled of sandal-wood."
"Bosh! there's plenty of sandal-wood in England."
"No doubt; but Englishmen are not by way of scenting their clothes with it. I shouldn't be surprised to find that the Planet was right. At all events it's some sort of clue."
Aldean shook his head. "I thought you said it was a theory?"
"So it is; but a theory may develop into a clue," retorted Mallow, lighting another cigarette. "If only I had the time, there is nothing I would like better than to follow up a case like this."
"Well, surely you have the time?"
"I have not; I am giving you what spare moments I have."
"You are--now. But at Casterwell Miss Bellairs, I guess, will see a good deal more of you than I shall. The moth and the candle, eh?"