"He was a clumsy fellow who did it, whether he was Aylmore or whoever he was!" he replied. "Do you know, it had been dropped into a sewer-trap in Middle Temple Lane—actually! Perhaps the murderer thought it would be washed out into the Thames and float away. But, of course, it was bound to come to light. A sewer man found it yesterday evening, and it was quickly recognized by the woman who cleans up for Aylmore as having been in his rooms ever since she knew them."
"What does Aylmore say about it?" asked Spargo. "I suppose he's said something?"
"Says that the bludgeon is certainly his, and that he brought it from South America with him," announced Rathbury; "but that he doesn't remember seeing it in his rooms for some time, and thinks that it was stolen from them."
"Um!" said Spargo, musingly. "But—how do you know that was the thing that Marbury was struck down with?"
Rathbury smiled grimly.
"There's some of his hair on it—mixed with blood," he answered. "No doubt about that. Well—anything come of your jaunt westward?"
"Yes, " replied Spargo. "Lots!"
"Good?" asked Rathbury.
"Extra good. I've found out who Marbury really was."
"No! Really?"
"No doubt, to my mind. I'm certain of it."
Rathbury sat down at his desk, watching Spargo with rapt attention.
