s of the affair. If that idiot, Detective
Brownson, took hold of it, the goddess Justice might throw up her hands
as well as close her eyes. And inwardly we desired to cherish our
secret out of the same sense of fearful joy with which one listens to a
ghost story--we had tasted the coal-black wine pressed from forbidden
grapes, and we craved a yet deeper draught. Finally, a connoisseur does
not willingly relinquish a good find, whatever the circumstances; there
are bibliomaniacs who will not hesitate to steal what they may not
otherwise procure. I myself know a charming woman who collects Japanese
sword-guards AT ANY COST (I have her husband's authority for this
statement).

But, seriously again, the grip of the mystery was upon us; the
inclination had become irresistible to see the thing out, or at least
to let it run a little further, just as a child amuses itself with
fire--the desire to see what will happen. Later on it might be
necessary to pull up sharply, but the contingency would doubtless
provide for itself. The ultimate fact remained that here was a genuine
adventure, and as connoisseurs of romance we were bound to exploit it
to the utmost limit of our ability. So be it, then.

"The finding of that organ-grinder is our first and obvious procedure,"
said Indiman, slowly. "And the clew to his identity lies, as you have
explained, in his instrument."

"The organ itself is a criminal; it murders 'Celeste Aida.'"

"I believe that most of these instruments are rented from one company,"
continued Indiman. "We can find out definitely at the city License
Bureau, and we might as well make that the starting-point of our
investigations. We have plenty of time before luncheon; it is barely
twelve o'clock."

"But shouldn't we begin with--with the thing itself," I objected, and
glanced nervously at the big trunk standing in the middle of the floor.
The identity of the victim--it may be possible to establish it--a most
important point, surely."

"I'll have to pass up that part of it--at least for the present," said
Indiman, frankly. "But we must get the box out of sight somewhere. The
weather"--and here he gave a little involuntary shudder--"is getting
warmer. We'd better get it down into the cellar. I'll see if the way is
clear."

The servants were all busy in the upper part of the house, and we
succeeded in getting the trunk down into the cellar unobserved, stowing
it away temporarily in an empty coal-bin. On our w