it, since it was part of the dress."

The professor nodded, as if the explanation satisfied him. Then he looked
at the head, neck, and hands.

"He was a singer, you say?"

"Yes--a tenor."

"What instrument did he play?"

"I don't know."

"Ah, a sad end. Henley, you say his name was--I see there is 'H' marked
in pencil in his hat."

"He called himself Henley," I answered; "it may not have been his real
name. As I said, his companions know very little about him."

"So his friends, if he has any, cannot be advised of the tragedy. This
company of mummers is alone in its mourning for him. I should like to
examine this hat more closely, Wigan. Can I take it away with me?"

I arranged for him to do so, and we went back to the hotel.

"Do you find it an interesting case, Professor?" I asked.

"It certainly presents some difficulties which are interesting. The clue
may lie in Henley's unknown past, and that might be a difficulty not to
be overcome; or we may find the clue in jealousy."