ut. Six
stories. Death instantaneous. Wire instructions. K. Doyle._"

"Gee Joseph!" gasped Krech, and handed the telegram to the detective,
who had sprung to his elbow long since and peered over his shoulder.
The big man walked back to his chair and dropped into it limply. "I'm
all unstarched!" he said plaintively. "Save my sanity and tell me what
it's all about! How many people killed Simon Varr?"

"One!" answered Creighton grimly, but his eyes were shining. "Janet
Mackay! And Ocky--Ocky thought she was dying--! She tried to shield
Janet by assuming the guilt! Merciful Heaven, what a thing to do! No
wonder she insisted on my recalling Kitty Doyle at once! Threatened to
turn her sacrifice into a wasted gesture, Kitty did--and, by golly,
Kitty _has_! But it wasn't wasted as far as we're concerned--we can
always appreciate it! It was fine, Krech--fine!"

"But foolish," grunted Krech. "Think of the unhappiness she would have
caused every one who is fond of her if she'd been allowed to roll up
her reputation into a ball and kick it away!"

"Don't you suppose that thought hurt her?" cried Creighton. "If laying
down your life for a friend exemplifies the greater love, what of a
woman who lays down her reputation? Isn't that even finer?"

"Y-yes. Perhaps you're right. But--she condoned a crime."

"Uh-huh. And I think you and I are in a nice position to criticize
her, aren't we? Perhaps Jean might help us there!"

Creighton, carried out of himself by a _denouement_ almost beyond
belief, was close to laughter. Mr. Krech was not. He left his chair
and began to saunter uncertainly around the room, pausing finally at
the desk and staring down at its blotter, his back turned to his
companion. A more neutral observer than the other, he thought he could
see a question arising that had not yet occurred to the
less-unprejudiced detective. But Creighton would stumble upon it
eventually--far better to thrash it out now.

"Why did Janet kill Simon Varr?" he opened the subject.

"Why--why--" Creighton stammered, at a loss for a moment, but recovered
himself swiftly as an answer came. "Don't you understand that? Her
motive was the one Ocky professed! She was playing Destiny! She knew
all about Varr--they discussed him at length--and she had always had a
distaste for the man since the old days in this house. When Ocky told
her the story of the monk, it was she who conceived the idea of the
masquerade