nue at eight o'clock this evening."

Jeckley was lighting his cigar, and so did not observe my start of
surprise. Have I said that Jeckley was a newspaper man? One of the new
school of journalism, a creature who would stick at nothing in the
manufacture of a sensation. The Scare-Head is his god, and he holds
nothing else sacred in heaven and earth. He would sacrifice--but
perhaps I'm unjust to Jeckley; maybe it's only his bounce and flourish
that I detest. Furthermore, I'm a little afraid of him; I don't want to
be written up.

"Esper Indiman," I read aloud. "Don't know him."

"Ever heard the name?" asked Jeckley.

I temporized. "It's unfamiliar, certainly."

Jeckley looked gloomy. "Nobody seems to know him," he said. "And the
name isn't to be found in the directory, telephone-book, or social
register."

Wonderful fellows, these newspaper men; I never should have thought of
going for Mr. Indiman like that.

"But why and wherefore?" I asked, cautiously.

"A mystery, my son. The card was shoved into my hand not half an hour
ago."

"Where?"

"At Twenty-third and Fourth. There were a lot of people around, and I
haven't the most distant notion of the guilty party."

"What does it mean?"

Jeckley shook his head. "What will you do about it?"

"I will make the call, of course."

"Of course!"

"There maybe a story there--who knows. Besides, it's directly on my way
to the Globe, and the curtain is not until eight-thirty. Tell you what,
old man; come along with me and see the thing to a finish. Fate leads a
card--Mr. Esper Indiman's--and we'll play the second hand; what do you
say?"

I declined firmly. God forbid that I should be featured, along with the
other exhibits in the case, on the first page of to-morrow's Planet.

"So," he assented, indifferently, and pushed his chair back. "Well, I
must push along--Lord! there's that copy--the old man will have it in
for me good and plenty if I don't get it down in time. Adios!" He
disappeared, and I let him depart willingly enough. Later on I went up
to the library for a smoke--no fear of encountering any Jeckleys there,
and, in fact, the room was entirely deserted. I looked at my watch; it
was ten minutes after seven, and that gave me a quarter of an hour in
which to think it over. Should I accept Mr. Indiman's invitation to
call?

I looked around for an ash-tray, and, seeing one on the big
writing-table in the centre of the room, I walked over to it.

There