und in your room. I had
supposed they came from some mechanical device, fastened to the end of a
long pole, but as a matter of fact, they were made by the monkey's
teeth.

"The animal being light in weight, and the pads of his feet being, of
course, soft, no traces of his presence were left on the newly painted
surface of the fire-escape. The handkerchief that I found there had been
knotted about his neck as the collar to which the rope was fastened had
seemed a bit weak. In some way it became detached, probably when the
girls jerked on the cord to summon him back after he had completed his
task.

"In crossing the roofs of the two houses, the monkey's paws, as well as
the rope, became covered with dust. This explains the spots which seemed
to be finger marks upon the counterpane of your bed, and the long, dark
straight line across the bed, which I thought might have been left by a
rod or pole. As a matter of fact, it was made by a tightly stretched
rope.

"The sending of the monkey on the night when you were lying in bed must
have been a mistake. You will remember that, contrary to your usual
habit, you retired that night very early--a little after eight o'clock,
if I remember correctly. The girls, coming over the room, saw that your
room was dark, and naturally supposed that no one was in it. The
grinning face of the monkey standing on the bed beside you, was the
death's head apparition you thought you saw. At your cries the two women
at once jerked on the cord, and the monkey hastened back to them through
the partly raised window, leaving no trace of his presence except the
black smudges of which I have spoken.

"I have no doubt that Jane Ford followed me back to my hotel after one
of my early visits to your apartment, and thus learned my name and
address. Her supposition that I was engaged in an attempt to ferret out
the writer of the letters was a shrewd guess.

"The photograph was stolen from the studio by Marcia Ford who, being an
employee, had ample opportunity to stroll about the place after office
hours without exciting suspicion. She also arranged the subsequent
delivery of the photograph and the substitution of the fake telegram.

"Even when I made my night visit to Marcia Ford's room, and was attacked
in the dark by the monkey, I did not suspect what it was. The room was
pitch dark, and in the gloom I got the impression of a much larger
object--a person, in fact, and this impression was heightened by