t time
Mr. Harry got home last night? Your mistress was asking Miss Lorne
earlier in the evening, and as he was with me until ten I shouldn't like
to contradict anything he may have said, _you_ know, should she conclude
to ask _me_. Know when he got back?"

"No, sir, that I don't. All I can tell you is that he wasn't home at
half-past twelve when I went to bed."

Cleek made a mental tally. Wasn't home at half-past twelve; and it was
at half-past eleven, according to Mr. Narkom, that the limousine arrived
at the head of Mulberry Lane and the first cry of murder was heard.

"Oh, all right," he said. "Don't worry him by mentioning that I asked.
See him myself when I come down." Cleek then passed by and went up the
stairs two steps at a time.

He did not stop at the second floor, however, but went up still another
flight, and then, stopping a moment to look about to see if anybody was
watching and to lean over the bannisters and listen if anybody was
following, went fleetly to Harry Raynor's den, passed in, and shut the
door behind him.

The place was quite black, but a touch of the electric button flooded it
with light, and showed him at once what he had come to seek. On a chair
close to the open bedroom door lay the clothes which young Raynor had
worn this afternoon, neatly folded, just as Hamer had placed them after
brushing and pressing, in case the young man should, by any chance,
elect to wear the same suit to-morrow.

Cleek moved rapidly to the chair, partly unfolded the coat and slipped
his hand into the inside breast pocket. A letter was there--_the_
letter, as he learned when he drew it out and opened it--typewritten by
what was clearly the hand of a novice, and setting forth just such a
message as young Raynor had stated.

"A bad move, Margot, and a little less carefully done than I should have
thought _you_ would have countenanced, knowing how clever and cunning
you are," was his mental comment as he read the thing. Then carefully
refolding it, he slipped it into his own pocket, snicked off the light,
and left the room.

In the lower passage he encountered Hamer.

"Begging pardon, Mr. Barch," the footman said, "but I was just going up
to see you, sir. Hawkins tells me that you were anxious to know at what
hour Mr. Harry returned home last night, and it happens that I know."

"Do you?" said Cleek. "That's jolly. At what hour did he return last
night, then?"

"He didn't return last night at all, sir.