Lawrence was burning the midnight oil, and therefore impatient of interruptions. But upon hearing Prout\'s name he finished the chapter he was writing, and slung up his reading lamp. He was hospitable over his cigarette and whisky.

"Come to tell me you have made a discovery, eh?" he asked. "No need to tell me that, I can see it in your face. Sit down man--one o\'clock in the morning is comparatively early for a novelist. Go on."

"It\'s a great discovery, sir," said Prout. "I have found the brother of the murdered man."

"What, the Corner House victim? Is that really a fact?"

"Indeed it is, sir. A good deal better looking than the other poor fellow, but directly I set eyes upon him I couldn\'t fail to see the likeness. And when he took off his gloves, and showed the big orange spots, I felt certain."

"I suppose you can lay hands upon him at any time?"

"Rather!" Prout grinned. "He\'s my prisoner. Arrested him tonight in connection with some long firm frauds. I arrested him in his own lodgings so that I should have a chance to search the room, and what did I come across but a few letters written by the murdered man to this brother of his."

"Surely, a curious coincidence!" Lawrence cried.

"Not at all, sir. There\'s a marvellous freemasonry amongst criminals. I\'ve started a hunt for a watch and chain, and found a bank robbery. Once in looking for a missing man I dropped upon a sensational bankruptcy. One never knows. But touching these letters. They are undoubtedly the same handwriting as the letter we found on the Corner House victim. I\'ve put them together, and I am certain."

"Do they contain anything likely to help us, Prout?"

"Well, that I can\'t say for the present, sir," Prout replied. "I have only looked at one. Seeing that you are so interested, I came here at once. But one thing I have discovered--if I was a creditor of a certain Countess who shall be nameless, I should go and sit on the doorstep until I had got the money."

Lawrence winked never so slightly. He had his own ideas on that head. He read the one letter that Prout handed to him and smiled. Beyond doubt the letter had been written by the queer misshapen outcast who had been found dead in the............