Twenty-six MR. BROWN

Sir James’s words came like a bombshell. Both girls looked equallypuzzled. The lawyer went across to his desk, and returned with a smallnewspaper cutting, which he handed to Jane. Tuppence read it over hershoulder. Mr. Carter would have recognized it. It referred to the mysteri-ous man found dead in New York.
“As I was saying to Miss Tuppence,” resumed the lawyer, “I set to workto prove the impossible possible. The great stumbling block was the un-deniable fact that Julius Hersheimmer was not an assumed name. When Icame across this paragraph my problem was solved. Julius Hersheimmerset out to discover what had become of his cousin. He went out West,where he obtained news of her and her photograph to aid him in hissearch. On the eve of his departure from New York he was set upon andmurdered. His body was dressed in shabby clothes, and the face dis-figured to prevent identification. Mr. Brown took his place. He sailed im-mediately for England. None of the real Hersheimmer’s friends or intim-ates saw him before he sailed — though indeed it would hardly havemattered if they had, the impersonation was so perfect. Since then he hadbeen hand in glove with those sworn to hunt him down. Every secret oftheirs had been known to him. Only once did he come near disaster. Mrs.
Vandemeyer knew his secret. It was no part of his plan that that hugebribe should ever be offered to her. But for Miss Tuppence’s fortunatechange of plan, she would have been far away from the flat when we ar-rived there. Exposure stared him in the face. He took a desperate step,trusting in his assumed character to avert¹ suspicion. He nearly succeeded—but not quite.”
“I can’t believe it,” murmured Jane. “He seemed so splendid.”
“The real Julius Hersheimmer was a splendid fellow! And Mr. Brown is aconsummate actor. But ask Miss Tuppence if she also has not had her sus-picions.”
Jane turned mutely to Tuppence. The latter nodded.
“I didn’t want to say it, Jane—I knew it would hurt you. And, after all, Icouldn’t be sure. I still don’t understand why, if he’s Mr. Brown, he res-cued us.”
“Was it Julius Hersheimmer who helped you to escape?”
Tuppence recounted to Sir James the exciting events of the evening, end-ing up: “But I can’t see why!”
“Can’t you? I can. So can young Beresford, by his actions. As a last hopeJane Finn was to be allowed to escape—and the escape must be managedso that she harbours no suspicions of its being a put-up job. They’re notaverse to young Beresford’s being in the neighbourhood, and, if necessary,communicating with you. They’ll take care to get him out of the way at theright minute. Then Julius Hersheimmer dashes up and rescues you in truemelodramatic style. Bullets fly—but don’t hit anybody. What would havehappened next? You would have driven straight to the house in Soho andsecured the document which Miss Finn would probably have

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