anybody, so to speak. We don't even know Rand. What was Rand, would you say? It was worth somebody's while to do him in. I suppose he knew something. But what did he know? Who was Rand?"
Reggie was putting on his overcoat. He collected his envelope and his cigarette box and put them away, looking the while with dreamy eyes at Superintendent Bell. "Yes," he said; "yes, there's a lot of unknown quantities about just now. Who the devil was Rand? Well, well! I think that finishes us here. Will you ring for the lift, inspector?" When he was left alone with Bell, he still gazed dreamily at that plump, stolid face. "Yes. Who the devil was Rand? And if you come to that, who the devil is Sandford?"
"Good Lord, Mr. Fortune, do you mean this business is that business?"
"Well, there's a lot of unknown quantities about," said Reggie.
Phase IV.—The Charge
When they talked about the case afterwards, Reggie and Lomas used to agree that it was a piece of pure art. "Crime unstained by any vulgar greed or sentiment; sheer crime; iniquity neat. An impressive thing, Lomas, old dear."
"So it is," Lomas nodded. "One meets cases of
