“I decided to take the necessary measures without delay, and accordingly, after a rather tedious interview with the detective-inspector (whom I showed over the entire house, including the museum and laboratory), I took a cab to Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials, where resided a well-known dealer in osteology.  I did not, of course, inform him that I had come to buy an understudy for a deceased burglar.  I merely asked for an articulated skeleton, to stand and not to hang (hanging involves an unsightly suspension ring attached to the skull).  I looked over his stock with a steel measuring-tape in my hand, for a skeleton of about the right size—­sixty-three inches—­but I did not mention that size was a special object.  I told him that I wished for one that would illustrate racial characters, at which he smiled—­as well he might, knowing that his skeletons were mostly built up of assorted bones of unknown origin.

“I selected a suitable skeleton, paid for it, (five pounds) and took care to have a properly drawn invoice, describing the goods and duly dated and receipted.  I did not take my purchase away with me; but it arrived the same day, in a funeral box, which the detective-inspector, who happened to be in the house at the time, kindly assisted me to unpack.

“My next proceeding was to take a set of photographs of the deceased, including three views of the face, a separate photograph of each ear, and two aspects of the hands.  I also took a complete set of finger-prints.  Then I was ready to commence operations in earnest.”

The rest of Challoner’s narrative relating to Number One is of a highly technical character and not very well suited to the taste of lay readers.  The final result will be understood by the following quotation from the museum catalogue: 

“Specimens Illustrating Criminal Anthropology.

“Series A. Osteology.

“1.  Skeleton of burglar, aged 37. [symbol:  male].  Height 63 inches.  (James Archer.)

“This specimen was of English parentage, was a professional burglar, a confirmed recidivist, and—­since he habitually carried firearms—­a potential homicide.  His general intelligence appears to have been of a low order, his manual skill very imperfect (he was a gas-fitter by trade but never regularly employed).  He was nearly illiterate and occasionally but not chronically alcoholic.

“Cranial capacity 1594 cc.  Cephalic index 76.8.

“For finger-prints see Album D 1, p. 1.  For facial characters see Album E 1, pp. 1, 2 and 3, and Series B (dry, reduced preparations).  Number 1.”

* * * * *

I closed the two volumes—­the Catalogue and the Archives—­and meditated on the amazing story that they told in their unemotional, matter-of-fact style.  Was poor Challoner mad?  Had he an insane obsession on the subject of crime and criminals?  Or was he, perchance, abnormally sane, if I may use the expression?  That his outlook was not as other men’s was obvious.  Was it a rational outlook or that of a lunatic?