if he deserves hanging we'll hang him."

"Or her?"

"It wasn't Elinor Wells," he said positively. "Here's the point: if he's
been afraid to go back for his overcoat it's still there. I don't expect
that, however. But the thing about the curtain interests me. I've been
reading over my copy of the notes on the sittings. It was said, you
remember, that curtains--some curtains--would have been better places
to hide the letters than the bag."

I stopped suddenly. "By Jove, Sperry," I said. "I remember now. My notes
of the sittings were in my overcoat."

"And they are gone?"

"They are gone."

He whistled softly. "That's unfortunate," he said. "Then the other
person, whoever he is, knows what we know!"

He was considerably startled when I told him I had been shadowed, and
insisted that it referred directly to the case in hand. "He's got your
notes," he said, "and he's got to know what your next move is going to
be."

His intention, I found, was to examine the carpet outside of the
dressing-room door, and the floor beneath it, to discover if possible
whether Arthur Wells had fallen there and been moved.

"Because I think you are right," he said. "He wouldn't have been likely
to shoot himself in a hall, and because the very moving of the body
would be in itself suspicious. Then I want to look at the curtains. 'The
curtains would have been safer.' Safer for what? For the bag with the
letters, probably, for she followed that with the talk about Hawkins.
He'd got them, and somebody was afraid he had."

"Just where does Hawkins come in, Sperry?" I asked.

"I'm damned if I know," he reflected. "We may learn tonight."

The Wells house was dark and forbidding. We walked past it once, as
an officer was making his rounds in leisurely fashion, swinging his
night-stick in circles. But on our return the street was empty, and we
turned in at the side entry.

I led the way with comparative familiarity. It was, you will remember,
my third similar excursion. With Sperry behind me I felt confident.

"In case the door is locked, I have a few skeleton keys," said Sperry.

We had reached the end of the narrow passage, and emerged into the
square of brick and grass that lay behind the house. While the night
was clear, the place lay in comparative darkness. Sperry stumbled over
something, and muttered to himself.

The rear porch lay in deep shadow. We went up the steps together. Then
Sperry stopped, and I advanced to the doorway.