"Since no one seems to have missed him I should say he was a man not too
anxious to have inquiries made about him, one careful to cover up his
tracks, perhaps one not altogether unknown in criminal circles, a man of
the type of your Beverley, for instance. By the way, have you ever seen
Beverley?"

"No."

"How were you to know him, then?"

"By the man in whose company he would be."

"And you have good reasons for expecting to run him to earth at
Fairtown?"

"Excellent reasons," I answered.

"Wigan, get some one who knows Beverley to go and look at the dead
pierrot. The result might be interesting."

It was. Quarles admitted that the idea was a leap in the dark, but he
pointed out that the dead man was the type he imagined Beverley to be.
The fact remains he was right. The dead man was Beverley. And, moreover,
the professor's deduction was right throughout as far as we were able to
verify it. Watson had been in prison, quite deservedly he admitted, but
having paid the debt for his fall, he was facing the world bravely. Then
came Beverley, who knew of the past, and Watson admitted that his death
was a thing that he could not help rejoicing over. He had heard nothing
from Henley, who had no doubt read of the discovery in the paper, and
thought it wiser to obliterate himself altogether.