ot the same sort of stuff at Sloanehurst this morning.--I'll go over
this, look for the steel particles, right away."

"Anything else, sir--special?"

The assistant was already half-way to the door. He knew that a floor an
inch deep in chips from his employer's whittling indicated laborious
mental gropings by the old man. It was no time for superfluous words.

"After dinner," Hastings instructed, "relieve Gore--at the Walman.
Thanks."

As Hendricks went out, there was another telephone call, this time from
Crown, to make amends for coolness he had shown Hastings at
Sloanehurst.

"I was wrong, and you were right," he conceded, handsomely; "I mean
about that Brace woman. Better keep your man on her trail."

"What's up?" Hastings asked amicably.

"That's what I want to know! I've seen her again. I couldn't get
anything more from her except threats. She's going on the warpath. She
told me: 'Tomorrow I'll look into things for myself. I'll not sit here
idle and leave everything to a sheriff who wants campaign contributions
and a detective who's paid to hush things up!' You can see her saying
that, can't you? Wow!"

"That all?"

"That's all, right now. But I've got a suspicion she knows more than we
think. When she makes up her mind to talk, she'll say something!--Mr.
Hastings," Crown added, as if he imparted a tremendous fact, "that
woman's smart! I tell you, she's got brains, a head full of 'em!"

"So I judged," the detective agreed, drily. "By the way, have you seen
Russell again?"

"Yes. There's another thing. I don't see where you get that stuff about
his weak alibi. It's copper-riveted!"

"He says so, you mean."

"Yes; and the way he says it. But I followed your advice. I've
advertised, through the police here and up and down the Atlantic coast,
for any automobile party or parties who went along that Sloanehurst road
last night between ten-thirty and eleven-thirty."

"Fine!" Hastings congratulated. "But get me straight on that: I don't
say any of them saw him; I say there's a chance that he was seen."

The old man went back, not to examination of Hendricks' parcel, but to
further consideration of the possible contents of the letter that had
been in the grey envelope. Russell, he reflected, had been present when
Mildred Brace mailed it, and, what was more important, when Mildred
started out of the apartment with it.

He made sudden decision: he would question Russell again. Carefully
placing Hendricks