sn't seem to amount to
anything. But I think we had better part now, Mr. Case. If I have
anything to report I'll see you to-morrow at the Beechwood Hotel."

The pair separated, and Adam Adams watched the young man disappear down
the road, the latter feeling that he ought not to interfere with the
work of the man he had engaged to unravel the mystery. In deep thought
the detective went back to the neighborhood of the mansion and
stationed himself where he could get a look at the library windows.

Adam Adams felt that the case was growing deeper and deeper. The
finding of the counterfeit banknotes In Barry Langmore's safe was
astonishing. Where this thread of the skein would lead to he could not
imagine.

"I seem to be uncovering more than I bargained for," he mused. "If the
man was innocent of all wrong-doing why didn't he turn those bills over
to the authorities? Were he alive we should certainly say he was
caught with the goods. If this comes out it will create as much of a
sensation as the murder itself."

Two hours went by and still the detective kept to his post. He was
used to waiting--had he not waited in the bitter cold six hours to
clear that poor Jew?--and he knew that sooner or later the man calling
himself Jack Watkins would reappear.

A light flared up in the library and then was turned lower. He crept
to the window and looked in as before. The strange man was at the
safe, working the combination knob backward and forward.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Adam Adams was forced to
smile. The man worked hurriedly and tried the combination a score of
times. He muttered something under his breath which may well be
omitted from these printed pages. He even got into a heavy
perspiration and had to pause to wipe his forehead with his
handkerchief.

"Hang the luck!" he went on. "I had it open before. What's got into
the confounded combination?"

Again he tried to work the figures. But it was all of no avail, and at
last he arose, fists clenched, and with a face full of baffled anger.
He stalked around the library, gazed at the strong box several times,
and then quit the apartment.

Waiting once more, the detective presently saw the man come from the
house and walk toward the road. Following, he saw the fellow hurry
past the Bardon home and then into a patch of timber. Here he had a
horse, and in a moment more would have been in the saddle had not Adam
Adams caught him by