that, he dressed carefully, selecting a new gray suit, a white
jersey-silk shirt and a blue necktie for the occasion. At six-thirty
Freda served his dinner and at fifteen minutes after eight o'clock he
rang the bell of the Lawrence home.

The door was opened by Evelyn: palpitant with excitement, and garbed
attractively in the demi-toilette of very-young-ladyhood.

"Mr. Carroll--so good of you to come. I'm simply tickled to death. Let me
have your hat and coat. Come right into the living room--I want you to
meet my brother-in-law and my sister--"

Sheepishly, Carroll followed the girl into the room. Mr. and Mrs.
Lawrence rose politely to greet him.

At the sight of the man he had really come to see, Carroll was conscious
of an instinctive dislike. Lawrence was of medium height, slightly
stooped and not unpleasing to the eye. But his brows were inclined to
lower and the eyes themselves were set too closely together. He was
dressed plainly--almost harshly, and he stared at Carroll in a manner
bordering on the hostile.

The detective acknowledged the introduction and then turned his gaze upon
the woman of the family. There he met with a surprise as pleasant as his
first glance at Lawrence had been unpleasant.

There was no gainsaying the fact that Naomi Lawrence was a beautiful
woman. Dressed simply for an evening at home in a strikingly plain gown
of a rich black material, and with her magnificent neck and shoulders
rising above the midnight hue--she caused a spontaneous thrill of
masculine admiration to surge through the ordinarily immune visitor in
the gray suit.

Her face was almost classic in its contour: her coloring a rich brunette,
her hair blue-black. No jewelry, save an engagement ring, adorned her
perfect beauty, and Carroll felt a loathing at the idea that this
magnificent creature was the wife of the stoop-shouldered, sour-faced man
who stood scowling by the living room table.

He gravely acknowledged the introduction of the young lady upon whom he
had called: feeling a faint sense of amusement at Lawrence's overt
disdain--and a considerable embarrassment under Naomi's questioning,
level gaze. For a few moments they talked casually--but that did not
satisfy Evelyn, and she dragged him into the parlor--

"--just the eleganest jazz piece--" Carroll heard as through a
haze "--just got it--feet can't keep still--play it for you--"

He found himself standing by the piano, the door between the music room