homas Gilbert's death was murder. All
persons who could have had motive or might have had opportunity to kill
him will be under suspicion till the investigation clears them of it.
I'm now ascertaining the whereabouts of Ina Vandeman that evening."

A shudder went through her; she looked at me feelingly, twisting her
hands together in the way I remembered. Despite her distress, she was
very simple and accessible. She gave me no resistance, admitted her
absence from the Thornhill house at about the time the party was ready
to start for San Francisco--Edwards, of course. I got nothing new here.
She seemed thankful enough to go into the house when I released her.

I lingered a moment to have a word with the little Japanese woman on the
step.

"How long you work this place?"

"Two hours af-noon, every day," ducking and giggling like a mechanical
toy.

Just a piece-worker, not a regular servant.

"Pretty dress," I touched the satin on the step. "Whose?"

"Mine." Grinning, she spread a breadth out over her knees. "Lady no like
any more. Mine." It was a peculiar shade of peacock blue; unless I was
mistaken, the one Mrs. Bowman had worn that night at Tait's.

"Hello--what's this?" I bent to examine a small hole in the hem of that
breadth Oomie was so delightedly smoothing.

"O-o-o-o! I think may-may burn'm. Not like any more."

There was a small round hole. Just so a cigarette might have seared--or
a bullet.

"Not can use," I said to Oomie, indicating the injured bit. "Cut that
off. Give me." And I laid a silver dollar on the step.

Giggling, the little brown woman snipped out the bit of hem and handed
it to me. I glanced up from tucking it into my pocket, and saw Laura
Bowman's white face staring at me through the glass of that side entry
door.

A suggestive lead, certainly; but it's my way to follow one lead at a
time: I went on to the Thornhill place.

Everybody there would know my errand; for though, with taste I could but
admire, Ina had put no name of any member of the family on her list, she
of course expected me to call on them, and would never have let her
sisters leave the country club without a warning.

The three were just taking their hats off in the hall when I arrived. I
did my questioning there, not troubling to take them separately. Cora
and Ernestine, a well bred pair of Inas, without her pep, perhaps a
shade less good looking, made their replies with none of the usual
flutter of feminine cur