letters to--to that woman--"

Dundee did not miss the slightest significance of that scene as he
retrieved the blue-grey envelope she had dropped. It was inscribed, in a
curious handwriting: "Mrs. Selim, Private Dining Room, Breakaway Inn."

"Let's see, boy," Strawn said, with respect in his harsh voice.

Dundee withdrew the single sheet of business stationery, and obligingly
held it so that the chief of detectives could read it also.

"Nita, my sweet," the note began, without date-line, "Forgive your bad
boy for last night's row, but I _must_ warn you again to watch your
step. You've already gone too far. Of course I love you and understand,
_but_--Be good, Baby, and you won't be sorry."

The note was signed "Dexy."

Dundee tapped the note for a long minute, while Tracey Miles continued
to console his wife. A new avenue, he thought--perhaps a long, long
avenue....

"Mrs. Miles," he began abruptly, and the tear-streaked face turned
toward him. "You say you thought this letter to Mrs. Selim had been
written by your husband?"

"Yes!" She gasped. "I'm jealous-natured. I admit it, and when I saw one
of our own--I mean, one of Tracey's business envelopes--"

"You made up your mind to steal it and read it?"

"Yes, I did! A wife has a right to know what her husband's doing, if
it's anything--like that--" Her haggard black eyes again implored her
husband for forgiveness, before she went on: "I _did_ slip into Nita's
room and go into her closet to see if she had left the letter in her
coat pocket. I closed the door on myself, thinking I could find the
light cord, but it was caught in one of the dresses or something, and it
took me a long time to find it in the dark of the closet, but I did find
it at last, and was just reading the note--"

"You _read_ it, even after you saw that the handwriting on the envelope
wasn't your husband's?" Dundee queried in assumed amazement.

Flora's thin body sagged. "I--I thought maybe Tracey had disguised his
Handwriting.... So I read it, and saw it was from Dexter--"

"Mr. Miles, do you know how some of your business stationery got into
Sprague's hands?"

"He's had plenty of opportunity to filch stationery or almost anything
he wants, hanging around my offices, as he does--an idler--"

But Dundee was in a hurry. He wheeled from the garrulity of the husband
to the tense terror of the wife.

"Mrs. Miles, I want you to tell me exactly what you know, unless you
prefer to consult a