one would not readily associate the party of top-booted sewermenwho descend nightly to the subterranean passages of london withthe stout viceconsul at durazzo. yet it was one unimaginative manwho lived in lambeth and had no knowledge that there was such aplace as durazzo who was responsible for bringing this comfortableofficial out of his bed in the early hours of the morning causinghim - albeit reluctantly and with violent and insubordinatelanguage - to conduct certain investigations in the crowdedbazaars.

at first he was unsuccessful because there were many husseineffendis in durazzo. he sent an invitation to the american consulto come over to tiffin and help him.

"why the dickens the foreign office should suddenly be interestedin hussein effendi, i cannot for the life of me understand.""the foreign department has to be interested in something, youknow," said the genial american. "i receive some of the quaintestrequests from washington; i rather fancy they only wire you tofind if they are there.""why are you doing this!""i've seen hakaat bey," said the english official. "i wonder whatthis fellow has been doing? there is probably a wigging for me inthe offing."at about the same time the sewerman in the bosom of his own familywas taking loud and noisy sips from a big mug of tea.

"don't you be surprised," he said to his admiring better half, "ifi have to go up to the old bailey to give evidence.""lord! joe!" she said with interest, "what has happened!"the sewer man filled his pipe and told the story with a wealth oframbling detail. he gave particulars of the hour he had descendedthe victoria street shaft, of what bill morgan had said to him asthey were going down, of what he had said to harry carter as theysplashed along the low-roofed tunnel, of how he had a funnyfeeling that he was going to make a discovery, and so on and soforth until he reached his long delayed climax.

t. x. waited up very late that night and at twelve o'clock hispatience was rewarded, for the foreign office' messenger brought atelegram to him. it was addressed to the chief secretary and ran:

"no. 847. yours 63952 of yesterday's date. begins. husseineffendi a prosperous merchant of this city left for italy to placehis daughter in convent marie theressa, florence hussein beingchristian. he goes on to paris. apply ralli theokritis et cie.,rue de 1'opera. ends."half an hour later t. x. had a telephone connection through toparis and was instructing the british police agent in that city.

he received a further telephone report from paris the next morningand one which gave him infinite satisfaction. very slowly butsurely he was gathering together the pieces of this bafflingmystery and was fitting them together. hussein effendi wouldprobably supply the last missing segments.

at eight o'clock that night the door opened and the man whorepresented t. x. in paris came in carrying a travelling ulster onhis arm. t. x. gave him a nod and then, as the newcomer stoodwith the door open, obviously waiting for somebody to follow him,he said,"show him in - i will see him alone."there walked into his office, a tall man wearing a frock coat anda red fez. he was a man from fifty-five to sixty, powerfullybuilt, with a grave dark face and a thin fringe of white beard.

he salaamed as he entered.

"you speak french, i believe," said t. x. presently.

the other bowed.

"my agent has explained to you," said t. x. in french, "that idesire some information for the purpose of clearing up a crimewhich has been committed in this country. i have given you myassurance, if that assurance was necessary, that you would come tono harm as a result of anything you might tell me.""that i understand, effendi," said the tall turk; "the americansand the english have always been good friends of mine and i havebeen frequently in london. therefore, i shall be very pleased tobe of any help to you."t. x. walked to a closed bookcase on one side of the room,unlocked it, took out an object wrapped in white tissue paper. helaid this on the table, the turk watching the proceedings with animpassive face. very slowly the commissioner unrolled the littlebundle and revealed at last a long, slim knife, rusted andstained, with a hilt, which in its untarnished days had evidentlybeen of chased silver. he lifted the dagger from the table andhanded it to the turk.

"this is yours, i believe," he said softly.

the man turned it over, stepping nearer the table that he mightsecure the advantage of a better light. he examined the bladenear the hilt and handed the weapon back to t. x.

"that is my knife," he said.

t. x. smiled.

"you understand, of course, that i saw 'hussein effendi ofdurazzo' inscribed in arabic near the hilt."the turk inclined his head.

"with this weapon," t. x. went on, speaking with slow emphasis, "amurder was committed in this town."there was no sign of interest or astonishment, or indeed of anyemotion whatever.

"it is the will of god," he said calmly; "these things happen evenin a great city like london.""it was your knife," suggested t. x.

"but my hand was in durazzo, effendi," said the turk.

he looked at the knife again.

"so the black roman is dead, effendi.""the black roman" asked t. x., a little puzzled.

"the greek they call kara," said the turk; "he was a very wickedman."t. x. was up on his feet now, leaning across the table and lookingat the other with narrowed eyes.

"how did you know it was karat" he asked quickly.

the turk shrugged his shoulders.

"who else could it be?" he said; "are not your ne newspapersfilled with the story?"t. x. sat back again, disappointed and a little an with himself.

"that is true, hussein effendi, but i did not think you read thepapers.""neither do i, master," replied the other coolly, "nor did i knowthat kara had been killed until i saw this knife. how came thisin your possession!""it was found in a rain sewer," said t. x., "into which themurderer had apparently dropped it. but if you have not read thenewspapers, effendi, then you admit that you know who committedthis murder."the turk raised his hands slowly to a level with his shoulders.

"though i am a christian," he said, "there are many wise sayingsof my father's religion which i remember. and one of these,effendi, was, 'the wicked must die in the habitations of the just,by the weapons of the worthy shall the wicked perish.' yourexcellency, i am a worthy man, for never have i done a dishonestthing in my life. i have traded fairly with greeks, withitalians, have with frenchmen and with englishmen, also with jews.

i have never sought to rob them nor to hurt them. if i havekilled men, god knows it was not because i desired their death,but because their lives were dangerous to me and to mine. ask theblade all your questions and see what answer it gives. until itspeaks i am as dumb as the blade, for it is also written that 'thesoldier is the servant of his sword,' and also, 'the wise servantis dumb about his master's affairs.' "t. x. laughed helplessly.

"i had hoped that you might be able to help me, hoped and feared,"he said; "if you cannot speak it is not my business to force youeither by threat or by act. i am grateful to you for having comeover, although the visit has been rather fruitless so far as i amconcerned."he smiled again and offered his hand.

"excellency," said the old turk soberly, "there are some things inlife that are well left alone and there are moments when justiceshould be so blind that she does not see guilt here is such amoment."and this ended the interview, one on which t. x. had set very highhopes. his gloom carried to portman place, where he had arrangedto meet belinda mary.

"where is mr. lexman going to give this famous lecture of his?"was the question with which she greeted him, "and, please, what isthe subject?""it is on a subject which is of supreme interest to me;" he saidgravely; "he has called his lecture 'the clue of the twistedcandle.' there is no clearer brain being employed in the businessof criminal detection than john lexman's. though he uses hisgenius for the construction of stories, were it employed in thelegitimate business of police work, i am certain he would make amark second to none in the world. he is determined on giving thislecture and he has issued a number of invitations. these includethe chiefs of the secret police of nearly all the civilizedcountries of the world. o'grady is on his way from america, hewirelessed me this morning to that effect. even the chief of therussian police has accepted the invitation, because, as you know,this murder has excited a great deal of interest in police circleseverywhere. john lexman is not only going to deliver thislecture," he said slowly, "but he is going to tell us whocommitted the murder and how it was committed."she thought a moment.

"where will it be delivered!""i don't know," he said in astonishment; "does that matter?""it matters a great deal," she said emphatically, "especially if iwant it delivered in a certain place. would you induce mr.

lexman to lecture at my house?""at portman place!" he asked.

she shook her head.

"no, i have a house of my own. a furnished house i have rented atblackheath. will you induce mr. lexman to give the lecturethere?""but why?" he asked.

"please don't ask questions," she pleaded, "do this for me,tommy."he saw she was in earnest.

"i'll write to old lexman this afternoon," ht promised.

john lexman telephoned his reply.

"i should prefer somewhere out of london," he said, "and sincemiss bartholomew has some interest in the matter, may i extend myinvitation to her? promise she shall not be any more shocked thana good woman need be."and so it came about that the name of belinda mary bartholomew wasadded to the selected list of police chiefs, who were making forlondon at that moment to hear from the man who had guaranteed thesolution of the story of kara and his killing; the unravelment ofthe mystery which surrounded his death, and the significance ofthe twisted candles, which at that moment were reposing in theblack museum at scotland yard.