LITMIR.BIZ

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was almost ravenous. There could be no doubt of her influence over him.

      As she passed through the lobby she paused at the telegraph desk a moment, then went into the writing room.

      "Yes, I think I have an explanation," began Haynes, when she was out of sight. "I've been trying to figure out what could have killed Delaney. Of course I can only guess, but I don't think it is such a bad guess."

      "What is it?" asked Craig.

      "You remember the mercury vapor light?"

      Kennedy nodded.

      "Mercury vapor lights of that sort are a pretty good source of ultra-violet rays sometimes," went on Haynes. "Well, doubtless you know that various plants belonging to different families produce free prussic acid. They are really cyanogenetic plants. Light and the assimilation processes depending on light exert a favorable influence on cyanogenesis. For instance, a mixture of citric acid with a much smaller amount of potassium nitrite and a trace of bicarbonate of iron, if exposed to light, will generate hydrocyanic acid. That, I believe, is what actually happens in some plant tissues. Animals rarely touch such plants. I believe that such a process might be aided rather than retarded by ultra-violet rays. What do you think of it?"

      Craig was following Dr. Haynes keenly. As for me, I was astounded by his frankness. I recalled what Kennedy had already said up in Delaney's apartment, and watched his face covertly.

      "Your explanation is plausible," was all that Craig said. "By the way, have you found out anything about the Baroness?"

      "Not a word, yet," replied Haynes unhesitatingly. "She seems to be out of town."

      "And madame—has she any idea where she is?"

      Haynes shook his head. "You may rest assured," replied Haynes in a tone that was meant to carry conviction, "that if we can find out we shall be only too happy to do so—ourselves."

      There was nothing to be gained by further inquiry here, and I could imagine that Kennedy was burning with anxiety to get at work on his own line of inquiry at the laboratory. After a few minutes of conversation we excused ourselves and left the hotel.

      Craig's air of abstraction was not such as to invite further questioning, and I left him an hour or so later in the laboratory surrounded by his microscopes, slides, and innumerable test-tubes which he had prepared for some exceedingly minute investigation in which his exact soul delighted.

      How late he worked I do not know, for I did not hear him come into our apartment. But he was up very early, in fact woke me up stirring around the living room.

      I had scarcely completed dressing, while he scanned the morning papers in a vain hope that some stray news item might shed some light on the mystery in which we were now involved, when the whirr of our door buzzer announced that we had an unusually early caller.

      Kennedy opened the door and admitted a stranger. He was one of those well-groomed middle-aged men whose appearance denotes with what care they seek by every means to retain youth that is fast passing. I could imagine him calmly calculating even his vices.

      "My name is Ames—Ashby Ames," he introduced. "Dr. Leslie, the coroner, has suggested that I see you."

      Ames looked as if he had been traveling all night and had not had a chance to freshen himself up in his haste.

      "I've just heard about that trouble down at my apartment," he continued, "and, though I had planned a trip for my health to the southern resorts, I thought it best for me to come right back to New York. It's a beastly mess."

      He had thrown his hat vindictively on the table, though his manner to us was rather that of one seeking advice. "Why," he stormed, "this affair is the limit! I rent my apartment to an apparently reputable person. And what do I find? It is not even a mere scandal. It is worse. The place is closed and guarded—quarantined, as it were. I can't get back into my own rooms!"

      Kennedy smiled. "I can't blame you for feeling vexed, Mr. Ames," he soothed, "but I'm sure I don't know what I can do for you more than I am doing. We are making every effort to clear the thing up—and I have been on the case, you must remember, less than twelve hours."

      "Oh, I've no criticism of you," rejoined Ames, somewhat mollified. "I didn't come here to criticise. I came only because I thought you might like to know that I was back in town, and because Dr. Leslie mentioned your name. No, indeed—no criticism. Only," he added, "now that my vacation is spoiled and I am back in town, there is going to be some action—that's all."

      "It can't come too swiftly for me," encouraged Craig.

      "I'm going to jump right into this beastly row," pursued Ames aggressively. "This morning I'm going to look these people up. They tell me that Baroness has been spending a good deal of time at my place. Pine business—eh? She's disappeared. But I'll get after that Haynes and the Madame Dupres they tell me about—and I'll let you know if I find out anything."

      He had not given Kennedy a chance to say anything, and in fact Kennedy did not seem to want to say anything yet.

      "Just thought I'd drop in," concluded Ames, who hadn't taken a chair, but now extended his hand to us; "I think I'll drop into a Turkish bath and freshen up a bit. Keep in touch with me."

      We shook hands and Ames departed, bustling out as he had bustled in.

      Kennedy looked at me and laughed as the door closed. "If we have many more people co-operating with us," he exclaimed, "we may resign and let this case solve itself."

      "I don't think that is likely," I replied.

      "Not unless we hear from Burke," he agreed. "There is plenty for me to do in the laboratory—but I do wish Burke would wire."

      The morning passed, and still there was no word from Burke.

      "I think we might drop around to the St. Quentin for lunch," suggested Kennedy in the forenoon. "We might pick up some news there."

      We had scarcely entered when we met Haynes pacing up and down the lobby furiously.

      "What's the matter?" inquired Craig, eyeing him searchingly.

      "Why," he replied nervously, sticking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and then plunging them into his trousers pockets as if it was with the utmost difficulty he controlled those unruly members from doing violence to somebody, "that fellow Ames from whom Delaney hired the apartment had just returned suddenly to town. I saw him talking to Madame Dupres in the hotel parlor. She seemed a bit nervous, so I went in to speak to her. But she said everything was all right and that she'd meet me out here in a few minutes. It's quarter of an hour now. I think he's threatening her with something."

      Haynes was evidently worried. I wondered whether he was afraid that Ames might worm from her some secret common to the two, for I did not doubt that Ames was a clever and subtle attorney and capable of obtaining a great deal of information by his kind of kid-glove third degree.

      "I should like to see both of them," decided Craig quickly.

      Before Haynes could say anything more, he strode into the hotel parlor. Haynes and I followed a short distance behind.

      There was an air of tense, suppressed excitement in the group, but of all of us, I felt that Madame Dupres was the coolest.

      "I see you've lost no time in getting busy," nodded Craig to Ames.

      "No," he replied easily. "This is certainly a very interesting situation which madame here has just outlined to me."

      Haynes came up just in time to catch the last words.

      "I say, Ames," he almost roared, "you may be a clever lawyer, but you must remember that you are also expected to be a gentleman. There are limits to questioning a woman when she has not the advantage of having a friend to advise her."

      For a moment I thought there was going to be a fight, but Kennedy moved unobtrusively between the two men. As for Madame Dupres, I felt that really she was a match for both of them.

      Instead of getting mad, however, Ames merely laughed.

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