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THE CLUE OF THE TWISTED CANDLE

said T. X., and put a strip of paper before him; "you may disguise your hand, and in your extreme modesty pretend to an ignorance of the British language, which is not creditable to your many attainments, but what you must be awfully careful in doing in future when you write such epistles," he said, "is to wash your hands."

"Wash my hands?" repeated the puzzled Fisher.

T. X. nodded.

"You see you left a little thumb print, and we are rather whales on thumb prints at Scotland Yard, Fisher."

"I see. What is the charge now, sir?"

"I shall make no charge against you except the conventional one of being a convict under license and failing to report."

Fisher heaved a sigh.

"That'll only mean twelve months. Are you going to charge me with this business?" he nodded to the paper.

T. X. shook his head.

"I bear you no ill-will although you tried to

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