comer's narrow
shoes--"and--er--the loss of--er--Mrs. Hale's jeweled necklace."

The boots retracted sharply, as under the impulse of some sudden
emotion; startled surprise, for example. "What?" cried Greene, in
obvious amazement. "I don't know anything about a necklace."

A twinkle of satisfaction appeared at the corners of Average Jones'
eyes.

"That also is possible," he admitted. "If you'll permit the form of an
examination; when you came to the Hotel Denton on August sixth, did you
carry the same suitcase you now have with you, and similarly packed?"

"Ye-es. As nearly as possible."

"Thank you. You were registered under the name of Henry M. Gillespie?"

The other's voice was low and strained as he replied in the affirmative.

"For good reasons of your own?"

"Yes."

"For which same reasons you left the hotel quite early on the following
morning?"

"Yes."

"Your business compels you to travel a great deal?"

"Yes."

"Do you often register under an alias?"

"Yes," returned the other, his face twitching.

"But not always?"

"No."

"In a large city and a strange hotel, for example, you'd take any name
which would correspond to the initials, H. M. G., on your dress-suit
case. But in a small town where you were known, you'd be obliged to
register under your real name of Harvey M. Greene. It was that necessity
which enabled me to find you."

"I'd like to know how you did it," said the other gloomily.

From the left-hand drawer of his desk Jones produced a piece of netting,
with hooks along one end.

"Do you recognize the material, Mrs. Hale," he asked.

"Why, it's the same stuff as the Hotel Denton curtains, isn't it?" she
asked.

"Yes," said Average Jones, attaching it to the curtain rod at the side
door. "Now, will you jerk that violently with one hand?"

"It will tear loose, won't it?" she asked.

"That's just what it will do. Try it."

The fabric ripped from the hooks as she jerked.

"You remember," said Jones, "that your curtain was torn partly across,
and not ripped from the hook at all. Now see."

He caught the netting in both hands and tautened it sharply. It began to
part.

"Awkward," he said, "yet it's the only way it could have been done.
Now, here's a bedpost, exactly like the one in room 168, occupied by Mr.
Greene at the Denton. Kirby, you're a powerful man. Can you break that
knob off with one hand?"

He wedged the post firmly in a chair for the trial. The bedpost
r