HE caught the Birmingham express that leaves Paddington at 12.15, and arrived at Reading nine minutes after one.
Here he took a bed at the Vastern Hotel, and went to sleep.
At eight o’clock the next morning he was in consultation with the Chief of the Berkshire Constabulary.
“It is a most extraordinary case,” said that gentleman. “Of course, it can be nothing else but the work of a lunatic. The body was found at three o’clock yesterday in a turnip field, close to the river. The man had no enemies, a simple, inoffensive creature, with a wife and five children. Our surgeon says that the murder must have taken place some time early in the morning. The throat was cut from ear to ear, most extraordinary case—mutilated too, but you will see the body for yourself.”
“Have you the knife?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
“By all means.”
The chief constable opened a drawer and produced something wrapped up in brown paper.
He unwrapped the paper and produced a savage-looking knife with a green shagreen handle.