r seen Mr. Fairfax?"

"Never laid eyes on the man in his life, but expected to meet him in a
month."

Garrison thought of the nephew who had come to claim the body. His
name had been given as Durgin. At the most, he could be no more than
Dorothy's cousin, and not the one he had recently met at her house.

"I don't suppose you saw Mr. Durgin, the nephew of Mr. Hardy?" he
inquired. "The man who claimed the body?"

"No, sir. I heard about Mr. Durgin, but I didn't see him."

Garrison once more changed the topic.

"Which was the room that Mr. Hardy occupied? Perhaps you'll let me see
it."

"It ain't been swept or dusted recent," Mrs. Wilson informed him,
rising to lead him from the room, "but you're welcome to see it, if you
don't mind how it looks."

The apartment was a good-sized room, at the rear of the house. It was
situated on a corner, with windows at the side and rear. Against the
front partition an old-fashioned fireplace had been closed with a
decorated cover. The neat bed, the hair-cloth chairs, and a table that
stood on three of its four legs only, supplied the furnishings. The
coroner had taken every scrap he could find of the few things possessed
by Mr. Hardy.

"Nice, cheerful room," commented Garrison. "Did he keep the windows
closed and locked?"

"Oh, no! He was a wonderful hand to want the air," said the landlady.
"And he loved the view."

The view of the shed and hen-coops at the rear was duly exhibited.
Garrison did his best to formulate a theory to exonerate Dorothy from
knowledge of the crime; but his mind had received a blow at these new
disclosures, and nothing seemed to aid him in the least. He could only
feel that some dark deed lay either at the door of the girl who had
paid him to masquerade as her husband, or the half-crazed inventor down
the street.

And the toils lay closer to Dorothy, he felt, than they did to Scott.

"You have been very helpful, I am sure," he said to Mrs. Wilson.

He bade her good-by and left the house, feeling thoroughly depressed in
all his being.

CHAPTER IX

A SUMMONS

Once in the open air again, with the sunshine streaming upon him,
Garrison felt a rebound in his thoughts. He started slowly up the road
to Branchville, thinking of the murder as he went.

The major requisite, he was thoroughly aware, was motive. Men were
never slain, except by lunatics, without a deeply grounded reason. It
disturbed him greatly to realize that D