her father--had been ruthlessly removed by--death.
Only Mr. Hamilton stood between her and the machinations of those who
thought they had her in their power. Therefore, Mr. Hamilton was also
removed, temporarily. Do I make myself quite clear now?"

"It is impossible, incredible! What enemies could this dear child here
have made, and who could wish to harm her? Besides, am I not here? Do
not I and my friends stand in _loco parentis_ to her?"

"As you doubtless are aware, one of Miss Lawton's pseudo-guardians, at
least, has involuntarily resigned his wardenship," Blaine remarked.

"You refer to the sudden death last night of my associate, Mr.
Rockamore?" Mallowe shook his head dolorously. "A terrible accident!
The news was an inexpressible shock to me! It was to comfort Miss
Lawton for the blow which the loss of this devoted friend must be to
her that I came to-day."

"I fancy the loss itself will be consolation enough, Mr. Mallowe. The
accident was tragic, of course. It takes courage to clean a gun,
sometimes--more courage, perhaps, than to spill into a glass an
ingredient not usually included in a Scotch highball, let us say."

"Mr. Blaine, if you are inclined to be facetious, sir, let me tell
you this is neither the time nor place for an attempt at a jest! When
Miss Lawton called you in, the other day, and engaged you to search
for Mr. Hamilton--"

"Oh, she didn't call me in then, Mr. Mallowe! I've been on the case
from the start, all this last month, in fact, and in close touch with
Miss Lawton every day."

Mallowe started back, the light of comprehension dawning swiftly in
his eyes, only instantly to be veiled with a film of craftiness.

"What case?" he asked. "Ramon Hamilton has not been missing for a
month."

"The case of the death of Pennington Lawton! The case of his
fraudulently alleged bankruptcy! The case of the whole damnable
conspiracy to crush this girl to the earth, to impoverish her and
tarnish the fair name and honored memory of her father. It's cards on
the table now, Mr. Mallowe, and I'm going to win!"

"You must be mad!" exclaimed the older man. "This talk of a conspiracy
is ridiculous, absurd!"

"Mr. Rockamore called me 'mad,' also, yesterday afternoon, standing
just where you stand now, Mr. Mallowe." The detective met the lowering
eyes squarely. "Yet he went home and--accidentally shot himself! A
curiously opportune shot that! Miss Lawton's enemies depended too
confidently upon her cre