outside. The servant's entrance
was locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock above
the ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime before
to buy groceries and wine for the later party.

"But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electric
chair." Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him by
his host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. "This
cigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least--Warren
understands as much chemistry as I do."

"At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and then
noticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with the
others on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman,
of course things needed dusting. But where these three books were it
had been rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found the
little leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when I
saw that the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, from
the bronze rack."

"And then, Miss Sleuth?"

"Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborative
evidence,' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect that
typewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Here
it is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert."

"You wonderful girl!" he murmured simply. She protested, "Don't tease
me. I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but complete
methods of working. I understand you better than you think."

"Go on with your story," and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knew
not why.

"That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I took
advantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate that
waiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I never
saw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower.
See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down."

She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands.
Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for a
brief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneath
the cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contact
thrilled Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheek
against his shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night.

"After finding you so accidentally and r