eating my dinner alone, when Ambler Jevons entered.
He was not as cheery as usual. He did not exclaim, as was his habit, "Well, my boy, how goes it? Whom have you killed today?" or some such grim pleasantry.
On the contrary, he came in with scarcely a word, threw his hat upon a side table, and sank into his usual armchair with scarcely a word, save the question uttered in almost a growl: "May I smoke?"
"Of course," I said, continuing my meal. "Where have you been?"
"I left while you were cutting up the body," he said. "I've been about a lot since then, and I'm a bit tired."
"You look it. Have a drink?"
"No," he responded, shaking his head. "I don't drink when I'm bothered. This case is an absolute mystery." And striking a match he lit his foul pipe and puffed away vigorously, staring straight into the fire the while.
"Well," I asked, after a long silence. "What's your opinion now?"
"I've none," he answered gloomily. "What's yours?"
"Mine is that the mystery increases hourly."
"What did you find at the cutting-up?"
In a few words I explained the unaccountable nature of the wound, drawing for him a rough diagram on the back of an old envelope, which I tossed over to where he sat.
He looked at it for a long time without speaking, then observed: "H'm! Just as I thought. The police theory regarding that fellow Short and the knife is all a confounded myth. Depend upon it, Boyd, old chap, that gentleman is no fool. He's tricked Thorpe finely--and with a motive, too."
"What motive do you suspect?" I inquired, eagerly, for this was an entirely fresh theory.
"One that you'd call absurd if I were to tell it to you now. I'll explain later on, when my suspicions are confirmed--as I feel sure they will be before long."
"You're mysterious, Ambler," I said, surprised. "Why?"
"I have a reason, my dear chap," was all the reply he vouchsafed. Then he puffed again vigorously at his pipe, and filled the room with clouds of choking smoke of a not particularly good brand of tobacco.
CHAPTER X. WHICH PUZZLES THE DOCTORS.
At the inquest held in the big upstair room of the Star and Garter Hotel at Kew Bridge there was a crowded attendance. By this time the public excitement had risen to fever-heat. It had by some unaccountable means leaked out that at the post-mortem we had been puzzled; therefore the mystery was much increased, and the papers that morning without exception gave prominence to the startling affair.
The coroner, seated at the table at the head of the room, took the usual formal evidence of identification, writing down the depositions upon separate sheets of blue foolscap.Samuel Short was the first witness of importance, and those in the room listened breathlessly to the story of how his alarum clock had awakened him at two o'clock; how he had risen as usual and 

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