still abroad; for the letter, I recollected, had been written on board the liner between Naples and London. But the principal point which puzzled me was the reason why the dead man's letter should be delivered in such secrecy. 

A man with a red tie is very easily distinguishable, and I flatter myself that I possess very keen eyesight; yet though minute after minute went by till it was already a quarter-past the hour, still no man answering the description given by the late Mr Arnold put in an appearance. 

Presently, on the opposite platform, the express from Plymouth to Bristol came in; and suspecting that he might arrive by it, I dashed up the stairs, two steps at a time, and across the footbridge. When halfway down the stairs, I halted, for I could see all over the up-platform. Few passengers had alighted, but among them, I instantly discerned a man wearing a cravat of scarlet satin. He was smartly dressed in a grey lounge-suit, and in his coat, he wore a pink carnation. In his hand was an old-fashioned black ebony cane with a silver knob. 

He was standing looking up and down the platform, as though in search of somebody. Therefore I sped down the remaining stairs and quickly approached him, though I had not seen his face distinctly. 

Suddenly, as I was within six yards of him, I recollected the dead man's written words, and halted short. He was still wearing grey suede gloves. He had not removed them; therefore he was suspicious of being watched! 

I lit another cigarette and with a careless air sauntered past him in order to gain a good view of his features. He was, I saw, of middle height and aged about fifty. His clean-shaven face, with heavy, square jaws, was pimply and rather bloated--a face that somehow filled me with repugnance, for it was the countenance of one who was a fast liver and who indulged a little too freely in alcohol. 

His grey suit, grey soft felt hat, and grey gloves gave to him a certain air of smartness and distinction; yet those small brown eyes, with a peculiar, indescribable expression searching up and down the platform, were the eyes of a man full of craft and double cunning. From the first moment I turned my gaze upon him, I held him in distinct suspicion; while he, it appeared, in turn, held somebody else in suspicion. 

I looked around but could not discern anybody who might arouse his misgivings. About us were all honest Devon folk. The fact that he had not taken off his gloves 

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