n his cards, and rising, went to the window. As he held
the curtain back his customary grin looked a little forced.

"To tell you the truth, Lollie," he said, "for the last two days he has
been watching a well-known Washington attorney named Lawrence Blakeley.
He's across the street now."

It took a moment for me to grasp what he meant.

"Why, it's ridiculous," I asserted. "What would they trail me for? Go
over and tell Johnson to get out of there, or I'll pot at him with my
revolver."

"You can tell him that yourself." McKnight paused and bent forward.
"Hello, here's a visitor; little man with string halt."

"I won't see him," I said firmly. "I've been bothered enough with
reporters."

We listened together to Mrs. Klopton's expostulating tones in the lower
hall and the creak of the boards as she came heavily up the stairs. She
had a piece of paper in her hand torn from a pocket account-book, and on
it was the name, "Mr. Wilson Budd Hotchkiss. Important business."

"Oh, well, show him up," I said resignedly. "You'd better put those
cards away, Richey. I fancy it's the rector of the church around the
corner."

But when the door opened to admit a curiously alert little man,
adjusting his glasses with nervous fingers, my face must have shown my
dismay.

It was the amateur detective of the Ontario!

I shook hands without enthusiasm. Here was the one survivor of the
wrecked car who could do me any amount of harm. There was no hope that
he had forgotten any of the incriminating details. In fact, he held in
his hand the very note-book which contained them.

His manner was restrained, but it was evident he was highly excited.
I introduced him to McKnight, who has the imagination I lack, and who
placed him at once, mentally.

"I only learned yesterday that you had been--er--saved," he said
rapidly. "Terrible accident--unspeakable. Dream about it all night and
think about it all day. Broken arm?"

"No. He just wears the splint to be different from other people,"
McKnight drawled lazily. I glared at him: there was nothing to be gained
by antagonizing the little man.

"Yes, a fractured humerus, which isn't as funny as it sounds."

"Humerus-humorous! Pretty good," he cackled. "I must say you keep up
your spirits pretty well, considering everything."

"You seem to have escaped injury," I parried. He was fumbling for
something in his pockets.

"Yes, I escaped," he replied abstractedly. "Remarkable thing, too. I