hics of the situation would
have been correctly met.

But Kirby was only a plain, outdoors Westerner. He did not know the
conventional method of procedure. It did not even occur to him at
first that Apartment 12 might still have secrets to tell him after the
police and the reporters had pawed over it for several days. But his
steps turned back several times to the Paradox as the center from which
all clues must emanate. He found himself wandering around in that
vicinity trying to pick up some of the pieces of the Chinese puzzle
that made up the mystery of his uncle's death.

It was on one of these occasions that he and Rose met his cousin James
coming out of the apartment house. Cunningham was a man of admirable
self-control, but he looked shaken this morning. His hand trembled as
it met that of his cousin. In his eyes was the look of a man who has
suffered a shock.

"I've been sitting alone for an hour in the room where Uncle James met
his death--been arranging his papers," he explained. "It began to get
my nerve. I couldn't stand it any longer. The horrible thing kept
jumping to my mind." He drew his right hand heavily across his eyes,
as though to shut out and brush away the sight his imagination conjured.

His left arm hung limp. Kirby's quick eyes noticed it.

"You've hurt yourself," Lane said.

"Yes," admitted James. "My heel caught on the top step as I started to
walk down. I've wrenched my arm badly. Maybe I've broken it."

"Oh, I hope not," Rose said quickly, a warm sympathy in her vibrant
young voice. "A broken arm's no fun. I find it an awful nuisance."

The janitor of the Paradox came out and joined them. He was a little
Japanese well on toward middle life, a small-featured man with small,
neat feet.

"You feelum all right yes now?" he asked, directing his slant, oval
eyes toward Cunningham.

"Yes, I've got over the nausea, thanks, Shibo." James turned to the
others. "Shibo was at the foot of the stairs when I caught my heel.
He gathered up the pieces. I guess I was all in, wasn't I, Shibo?"

The Japanese nodded agreement. "You heap sick for minute."

"I've been worrying a good deal about this business of Uncle James, I
suppose. Anyhow, I've had two or three dizzy spells lately. Nothing
serious, though."

"I don't wonder. You sit at a desk too much, James. What you need is
exercise. If you'd get in the saddle a couple o' hours a day an' do
some stiff ridin' you'd qu