The Man Who Knew by Fred M. White

IT seemed to Lashbrook when he turned his back upon the shabby little shop in Camberwell that he had, by accident, hit upon one of the German mediums by which certain individuals, more or less connected with the Berlin Secret Service had communicated with their headquarters prior to the war. At least, that is what Heron's wife had intimated when she had been brought to reason and forced to speak more or less plainly. Perhaps, if this was followed up, it would be possible to unravel the tangled skein of mystery that surrounded the death of Andrew Millar. There would be a lot to do yet before it was possible to lay the actual criminal by the heels.

Up to a certain point there were indications that Selby Crafton might be the murderer himself. And yet, on the other hand, there was nothing very definite to go upon, even with the evidence of that magazine story before him. To begin with, he had, as yet, not the slightest evidence that the story had been written by Crafton, though he was practically certain that, whoever it was who had played that trick on the editor of the West End Magazine, was using a pseudonym to conceal his identity.