utely undisturbed. We will be
right over."

"Get Doctor Brooks, Del," he said quietly; "the Eye of Allah was
watching after all."

Robert Delamater was silent as they drove to the hotel. Where had he
slipped? He trusted Smeed and Wilkins entirely; if they said his car
had not been followed it had not. And the visitor had been disguised;
he had seen to that. Then, where had this person stood--this being who
called himself the Eye of Allah?

"Chief," he said finally. "I didn't slip--nor Wilkins or Smeed."

"Someone did," replied the big man, "and it wasn't the Eye of Allah,
either."

The manager of the hotel was waiting to take them to the room. He
unlocked the door with his pass key.

"Not a thing touched," he assured the Secret Service men; "there he
is, just the way we found him."

In the doorway between the bedroom and bath a body was huddled. Doctor
Brooks knelt quickly beside it. His hands worked swiftly for a moment,
then he rose to his feet.

"Dead," he announced.

"How long?" asked the Chief.

"Some time. Hours I should say--perhaps eight or ten."

"Cause?" the query was brief.

"It will take an autopsy to determine that. There is no blood or wound
to be seen."

* * * * *

The doctor was again examining the partly rigid body. He opened one
hand; it held a cake of soap. There was a grease mark on the hand.

Delamater supplied the explanation. "He touched some grease on the old
car I was using," he said. "Must have gone directly to wash it off.
See--there is water spilled on the floor."

Water had indeed been splashed on the tile floor of the bath room; a
pool of it still remained about the heavy, foreign-looking shoes of
the dead man.

Something in it caught Delamater's eye. He leaned down to pick up
three pellets of metal, like small shot, round and shining.

"I'll keep these," he said, "though the man was never killed with shot
as small as that."

"We shall have to wait for the autopsy report," said the Chief
crisply; "that may give the cause of death. Was there anyone in the
room--did you enter it with him last night, Del?"

"No," said the operative; "he was very much agitated when we got
here--dismissed me rather curtly at the door. He was quite upset about
something--spoke English none too well and said something about a
warning and damned our Secret Service as inefficient."

"A warning!" said the Chief. The dead man's brief case was on the bed.
He