ront of
the desk--and shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "Said I expected
as much, didn't I? Now for that window in the living-room."

Krech had finished his story and Miss Ocky was looking at the detective
with considerable interest and some respect.

"That was clever of you to notice the shallowness of the footprints,"
she said. "And your deductions from them and the note are quite
shrewd. A small educated man instead of a large illiterate one?"

"Yes. Not that I'd advise you to bet on it. Quite often the brilliant
deduction falls by the wayside and leaves the obvious conclusion to jog
home a winner. You had a good look at the fellow didn't you? You got
the impression that he was tall? How tall?"

"Oh, six feet perhaps. It was dusk, you know, and he brushed by me
very quickly. I was too scared to do much observing!"

"Uncomfortable experience," said Krech, "having a masked monk pop out
at you from a peaceful countryside. What did you think about it? Did
you know the fool legend?"

"N-no. I learned about that next day from Sheila Graham. I was
telling her my experience and she remembered the story and went and got
the book."

"She's the daughter of Billy Graham, the manager whom Varr had decided
to get rid of?" Creighton's face was serious.

"How in the world did you know _that_!" cried Miss Ocky.

"Gossip. I love to listen to it. Ever talk to a chap named Nelson, a
watchman at the tannery? He's full of it." It was a trick of Peter
Creighton's to sound most flippant when he was soberest inside, and
Krech, who knew it, fell to watching him sharply. But the detective's
face was inscrutable. "So Graham's daughter had a book containing the
legend of the monk, eh? Just what was the trouble between him and Mr.
Varr?"

"Well--I suppose I may as well tell you," said Miss Ocky reluctantly.
"It wouldn't be right to keep anything back from you, especially as
you'd be bound to hear about it anyway. The trouble between them was
mostly started by my brother-in-law, who objected to the interest his
son was showing in Sheila Graham. They considered themselves engaged--"

"What? Varr had a son?" Creighton broke in on her abruptly,
unconsciously raising his voice in his surprise. "Where is he?"

"His father drove him from the house!" cried a hoarse voice from the
door. "I don't know where he is. He ought to be with me now---_and I
don't know where he is_!"

Creighton wheeled swiftly to