you!" said Britz, returning the receiver to the hook. "The seals
were intact when we opened the envelope," he recalled to the chief. "I
don't believe the contents of that document were communicated to anyone
before we read the will. That eliminates the theory that Ward, or
Collins, or Mrs. Collins killed Whitmore in order to obtain the
inheritance."

"And except to get the fortune, what possible motive could Mrs. Collins
or Ward have for seeking Whitmore's death?" asked the chief.

"I don't know." Britz shrugged. "As the case stands, Collins appears to
be the only one with sufficient motive for the crime. Yet I am fully
convinced that Collins didn't do it."

CHAPTER XVI

At a window of the Cosmos Club, overlooking Fifth avenue, two men were
seated. It was dusk, and thick shadows filled the unlighted clubroom,
concealing the faces of the men from the countless eyes of the men and
women passing in parade beneath the window.

From where they sat the two men could observe the endless procession in
the street, while keeping an eye on the door leading from the room into
the main corridor of the big clubhouse. One of the men--the younger of
the two--appeared uneasy over something, even rebellious at times. His
sallow complexion had taken on a muddy hue in the semi-darkness of the
room, giving his face the appearance of a compact shadow outlined
against the heavy brown leather chair in which he sat. From beneath a
slightly receding forehead two lusterless eyes peered apprehensively
about the room, and each time the door opened the man started violently
in his seat.

The occupant of the second chair was a middle-aged man of somewhat ruddy
complexion, smooth-shaven, with an expression habitually alert, yet
concealed by a free-and-easy manner and an ingratiating smile that
seemed to stamp him as one of those genial souls in whom no harm can
reside. Yet the younger man appeared to regard him with sullen fear.

"It's a sort of dirty, underhand thing to do, Fanwell," he was
protesting to his companion. "Not a bit clubby."

Fanwell remained entirely unabashed beneath this surly reproof.

"Look here, Cooper!" He moved his chair a trifle closer. "You don't have
to do it--I can't make you. But you know the consequences. You know as
well as I that the chief isn't doing favors for nothing. He let you stay
out of jail because he figured on using you some day. Your day of
usefulness has arrived. If I could rope Collins with