n stared wonderingly.

"G'way," he said.

They bid him good-day and tramped down the three long flights to the
street. Pendleton was silent, and walked with his head held down.

"We have more than an hour of good daylight left," said his friend, as
they reached the street. "And as I must have a good unrestricted look
at Hume's apartments before everything is hopelessly changed about,
suppose we go there now. We can get a taxi in the next street."

"Just a moment," said Pendleton. "Before we take another step in the
matter, Kirk, I must ask a question."

Ashton-Kirk put his hand upon his friend's shoulder.

"Don't," said he. "I know just what the question would be, and at the
present time I can't answer it. At this moment, except for some few
theories that I have yet to verify, I am as much puzzled as yourself."

"But," and there was a tremble in the speaker's voice, "you must
answer me, old chap--and you must answer now."

The catch in his voice, the expression upon the young man's face
caused Ashton-Kirk to grasp an astonishing fact. The hand that he had
laid upon Pendleton's shoulder tightened as he answered:

"Yes, Edyth Vale is concerned. As a rule I do not speak of my clients
to others, but in view of what you have already heard and seen, it
would be a waste of words to deny it. But, see here, there are lots of
things we don't know yet about this business. It may look very
different in a few hours. Come."

Pendleton gazed with sober eyes into the speaker's face for a moment.
Then he said:

"Let us get the cab; if you are to go over Hume's rooms before dark,
you haven't any too much time."

At the next corner they signaled a taxicab, and in a short time they
were set down in Christie Place. Paulson, the policeman, was standing
guard.

"How are you?" he greeted them affably.

"Been here all day?" asked Ashton-Kirk.

"Oh, no. Just come on. I'm the third shift since I saw you last."

"Nobody has been permitted to go upstairs, I presume?"

"Only the coroner's man, who came for the body. And they touched
nothing but the body. Our orders were strong on that."

"Has anything been heard as the result of the post-mortem?"

"It showed that Hume was in bad shape from too much drink. Then he had
a hard knock on the head, and the wound in his chest."

"But there was no sign of a bullet wound?"

"No," said Paulson, surprised. "Nothing like that."

"Just a moment," said the investigator to Pendleton. He