ed the door. A glance
around the empty office showed him that Sylvester had obeyed his
telephone instructions and gone out to luncheon.

Kent noted with satisfaction as he put his hat and cane in the coat
closet that he had over two hours before Mrs. Brewster's expected
arrival; ample time in which to consider in quietude the events of the
past few days, and plan for his interview with the pretty widow. He had
spent the time between Rochester's sudden reappearance and a hastily
swallowed lunch at a downtown caf, in arranging bail for Rochester.
Ferguson had proved obdurate and had persisted in taking the lawyer to
Police Headquarters.

Dr. Stone had accompanied the trio, and his testimony, supported by two
chemists, regarding the time required for aconitine poison to act, had
gone far to weaken the detective's case against Rochester.

Rochester, to Kent's unbounded astonishment, had appeared indifferent to
the whole proceedings; and to his partner's urgent inquiries as to where
he had spent the past four days, and why he had disappeared, he had
returned one invariable answer.

"I'll explain in good time, Harry," and it was not until they were
leaving Police Headquarters that his apathy vanished.

"When are you to see Mrs. Brewster?" he asked.

"She will be at our office at four o'clock. Say, Phil"--but Rochester,
shaking off his detaining hand, darted across the street and sprang into
a passing taxi bearing the sign, "For Hire," and that was the last Kent
had seen of his elusive partner.

Kent dropped into his chair and glanced askance at the mail piled in
neat array on his desk; he was not in a frame of mind to handle routine
office business. Other clients would have to wait until later in
the day. A memorandum pad, bearing a message in Sylvester's precise
penmanship attracted his wandering attention and he picked it up.

"Mr. Kent:" he read. "Colonel McIntyre called just after I talked with
you on the 'phone; he waited in your office for half an hour, then left,
stating he would come back. Miss Barbara McIntyre called immediately
afterwards, but would not wait more than five minutes. Mr. Clymer came
as she was going out and left a note on your desk. I will return soon.

"SYLVESTER."

Kent laid down the pad and picked up a twisted three-cornered note
bearing his name in pencil. Unfolding it, he scanned the hurriedly
written lines:

"Dear Kent--McIntyre telephoned there were new developments in the
Turnb