While he was there, Jack inquired as to the status of the investigation into Silas Gyde's murder. He found that it was at a standstill. The assassin, Jansen, was confined in an asylum a raving maniac, and nothing of importance had been unearthed concerning his antecedents. If he had been a member of any anarchistic circle the fact had not been established. He appeared to have led a solitary life, moving from one hall bedroom to another. His mind had been gradually undermined by too close an application to his anarchistic studies, and to a book on the subject that he was writing.
The fact of the book was new to Jack. "Have you the manuscript?" he asked.
"It was found in his room," the Deputy said.
"May I see it?"
"Certainly. But you'll find neither head nor tail to it."
It was brought, and Jack was obliged to confess the justice of the Deputy's description. It was the product of an insane brain. One could not read more than a line or two before the head began to whirl. But Jack discovered a clew in the manuscript which had apparently escaped the police. He did not call the attention of the Deputy to it, but made a mental note for his own use. On the first page under the many and fantastic titles of the proposed work was a dedication in two words:
"To Barbarossa"
Jack walked uptown turning over the word "Barbarossa" in his mind. Where had he heard it before? Was it the name of a famous historical character or an ocean liner? The sign of a branch of the Public Library gave him an idea. He went in and consulted an encyclopedia.
This told him two things; firstly, that Barbarossa meant Redbeard, and secondly, that the original Barbarossa was a Turkish sea rover. As he was unable to figure out any connection between the old freebooter and a modern anarchist, he deduced that the old nickname had been re-applied to some new wearer of a red beard.
At the library desk he inquired: "Is there any writer on anarchistic subjects who signs himself Barbarossa?"