urder of Mrs. Withers. Although Chief Greenleaf had tried
to keep it quiet, it had leaked out as a result of Jenkins' search for
traces of the man. Morley had read all this, and Braceway's question
upset him.

"No," he answered; "I never did. I played women's parts."

Abrahamson was shaking his head in negation. He made it plain that he saw
in Morley no resemblance to the man who had come disguised to the
pawnshop.

Braceway did not press Morley for further information.

"Then you can't help me," he laughed lightly. "Women don't wear beards."

He got up with a careless word about the hot weather and passed on to the
clerk's desk. He was thinking: "He was lying. Any college annual prints
the cast of the important 'show' given by the dramatic club that year.
I'll wire Philadelphia."

He found the manager of the Brevord and inquired:

"How about the bellboy who was on duty all Monday night, Mr. Keene?"

"He's in the house now," Keene informed him. "Roddy is his name."

"Send him up to my room, will you?"

Braceway stepped into the elevator. Five minutes after he had
disappeared, Morley went into the writing room. His hand trembled a
little as he picked up a pen. He put two or three lines on several sheets
of paper, one after the other, and tore up all of them.

The communication which he finally completed he put into an envelope and
addressed to Braceway. It read:

"Dear Mr. Braceway: When you asked me about the make-up, I was thinking
of something else and was not quite clear as to what you were saying or
what you wanted to know. I remember now that, on one occasion, I did
have a part as a man who wore a beard in a play given by my college
dramatic club. However, I don't remember enough about it to pass as an
expert on such make-ups.

"Yours truly,

"Henry Morley."

Going to the desk, he left the note for the detective.

"I'm a fool," he reflected, as he went to the door and looked out at the
traffic in the street. "I believe I'll get a lawyer."

He considered this for a while.

"Oh, what's the use? He'll ask me a lot of questions, and----"

He shuddered and turned back into the lobby, hesitant and wretched.

"My God!" he thought miserably. "I've got to get back to Washington! I've
got to! After that, I can think--think!"

But he believed he could not go until the chief of police gave him
permission. If he had consulted a lawyer, he might have found out
differently. As it was, he