s transmission of pictures. But with such a
scandal--how can we expect it? Do you know him?"

"Not personally, though I have heard of him," returned Kennedy briefly.

Both Craig and myself had been interested in reports of his invention,
which he called the "Franconi Telephote," by which he claimed to be able
to telegraph either over wires or by wireless light and dark points so
rapidly and in such a manner as to deceive the eye and produce at the
receiving end what amounted to a continuous reproduction of a picture
at the transmitting end. At least, in spite of his society leanings,
Franconi was no mere dilettante inventor.

"But--the necklace," suggested Craig, after a moment, for the first time
interrupting the rather rambling trend of Mrs. Brackett's story, "what
has this all to do with the necklace?"

She looked at him almost despairingly. "I don't really care for a
thousand such necklaces," she cried. "It is my daughter--her good
name--her--her safety!"

Suddenly she had become almost hysterical as she thought of the real
purpose of her visit, which she had not yet been able to bring herself
to disclose even to Kennedy. Finally, with an effort, she managed to
control herself and go on.

"You see," she said in a low tone, almost as if she were confessing some
fault of her own, "Gloria has been frequenting these--_recherche_
places, without my knowledge, and there she has become intimate with
some of the fastest of the fast set.

"You ask about the necklace. I don't know, I must admit. Has some one of
her friends taken advantage of her to learn our habits and get into the
house and get it? Or, have they put her up to getting it?"

The last query was wrung from her as if by main force. She could not
even breathe it without a shudder. "When the necklace was stolen," she
added tremulously, "it must have been an inside job, as you detectives
call it. Mr. Brackett and I were away at the time at a week-end party.
We supposed Gloria was visiting some friends in the city. But since
then we have learned that she motored out with some of her dance-crazed
acquaintances to the Cabaret Rouge, not far from Willys Hills. It must
have been taken then--by some of them."

The recital to comparative strangers, even though they were to be
trusted to right the wrong, was more than she could bear. Mrs. Brackett
was now genuinely in tears, her shoulders trembling under the emotion,
as she bowed her head. Her despair and self-acc