ve to it as ever.
The invention, or whatever it was, never got beyond the paper stage;
for thereafter Richard Morris spent his days in sleep and his nights
at the once famous Coffin Club.'"

Ashton-Kirk arose eagerly.

"There is more," said he, "but it is scarcely of interest." Placing
the report upon the table, he added: "You have heard of the Coffin
Club, Pen?"

"Of course. It met in an underground place somewhere, didn't it? And
if I remember right, it was fitted up like the Cafe Au Mort in Paris."

"Something of the sort." The investigator went to a huge card system
and pulled out a drawer labeled "TO." "But I recall it best by the
steward whose philosophy and Irish turns of speech were so frequently
quoted by the newspapers during the heydey of the establishment. Can
you recall his name?"

"I know whom you mean," answered Pendleton, "but the name has slipped
me."

Ashton-Kirk paused in the fingering of the cards.

"It was Tobin," said he. "It came to me that it was, but I wanted to
be sure." He pushed the drawer into place, looked at his friend
inquiringly, and added: "Suppose we go around to the 'Rangnow' and see
him?"

CHAPTER XX

ONE OF THE OLD SORT

Pendleton looked at his friend in bewilderment.

"You don't mean to say that the philosopher of the Coffin Club and
this Tobin of young Morris's are the same," cried he.

"I only _think_ they are," said Ashton-Kirk quietly. "But we can make
sure by paying a short visit to the apartment house."

"Now?"

"There is no time like the present."

And so the end of a half hour found them stepping out of a cab at the
extreme west end of the city. It was only a little after nine o'clock,
but the streets were almost deserted; the arc-lamps clicked and hissed
lonesomely; rows of darkened windows and shadowy doorways ran away on
both sides.

"There is the place we want," said the investigator, pointing at an
illuminated sign which hung out over the sidewalk some little distance
away.

When they reached the place, they found it was rather a large building
of the modern type; pushing open the swinging doors and making their
way through a brilliantly lighted passage, they found themselves in
an equally brilliant office.

Here they saw a dozen or more men seated in tilted chairs; all wore
their hats and for the most part smoked cigars. Behind a polished
counter on which rested a nickeled cash register and a huge book,
stood a white-haired man with