it myself."

"But I gave the order to Madame Pirot on Fifth Avenue. How came my
things to be found in the house of this woman of whose horrible death we
have been talking?"

"Did you suppose that Madame Pirot did such work with her own
hands?--or even had it done in her own establishment? Mrs. Doolittle was
universally employed. She worked for a dozen firms. You will find the
biggest names on most of her packages. But on this one--I allude to the
one addressed to you--there was more to be seen than the name. These
words were written on it in another hand. Send without opening. This
struck the police as suspicious; sufficiently so, at least, for them
to desire your presence at the house as soon as you can make it
convenient."

"To open the box?"

"Exactly."

The curl of Miss Strange's disdainful lip was a sight to see.

"You wrote those words yourself," she coolly observed. "While someone's
back was turned, you whipped out your pencil and--"

"Resorted to a very pardonable subterfuge highly conducive to the
public's good. But never mind that. Will you go?"

Miss Strange became suddenly demure.

"I suppose I must," she grudgingly conceded. "However obtained, a
summons from the police cannot be ignored even by Peter Strange's
daughter."

Another man might have displayed his triumph by smile or gesture; but
this one had learned his role too well. He simply said:

"Very good. Shall it be at once? I have a taxi at the door."

But she failed to see the necessity of any such hurry. With sudden
dignity she replied:

"That won't do. If I go to this house it must be under suitable
conditions. I shall have to ask my brother to accompany me."

"Your brother!"

"Oh, he's safe. He--he knows."

"Your brother knows?" Her visitor, with less control than usual,
betrayed very openly his uneasiness.

"He does and--approves. But that's not what interests us now, only so
far as it makes it possible for me to go with propriety to that dreadful
house."

A formal bow from the other and the words:

"They may expect you, then. Can you say when?"

"Within the next hour. But it will be a useless concession on my part,"
she pettishly complained. "A place that has been gone over by a dozen
detectives is apt to be brushed clean of its cobwebs, even if such ever
existed."

"That's the difficulty," he acknowledged; and did not dare to add
another word; she was at that particular moment so very much the great
lady, and so li