is task when the detective rejoined him.

"No trace of any one," the latter announced. "Some one put up a joke on
Stuart, I imagine. Find what you wished, sir?"

Kent was distinctly annoyed by the question. "Yes," he replied shortly.

Ferguson ignored his curt tone. "Will you spare me a few minutes of your
time, Mr. Kent?" he asked persuasively. "I won't detain you long."

"Certainly." Kent moved over to the chair in the window which he had
occupied before and pointed to another, equally as comfortable.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as Ferguson dropped back and stretched
himself in the soft depths of the big chair.

"Supply some information," answered the detective promptly. "Just a
minute," as Kent started to interrupt. "You don't recall me, but I met
you while working on the Chase case; you handled that trial in great
shape," Ferguson looked admiringly at his companion. "Lots of the praise
went to your partner, Mr. Rochester, but I know you did the work. Now,
please let me finish," holding up a protesting hand. "I know you've
carried Mr. Rochester in your firm; he's dead wood." Kent was silent.
What the detective said was only too true. Rochester, realizing the
talent and industry which characterized his younger partner, had
withdrawn more and more from active practice, and had devoted himself to
the social life of the National Capital.

"This is rather a long-winded way of reaching my point," finished the
detective. "But, Mr. Kent, I want your assistance in a puzzling case."

"Go on, I'm listening." As he spoke, Kent drew out his cigar case and
handed it to Ferguson. "The matches are on the smoking stand at your
elbow. Now, what is it, Ferguson?"

His companion did not reply at once; instead he puffed at his cigar.

"Did you read in the paper about Mr. Turnbull's death?" he asked when
the cigar was drawing to his satisfaction, and as Kent nodded a silent
affirmative in answer to his question, he asked another. "Did you know
him well?"

"Yes."

"Did he have an enemy?"

"Not to my knowledge." Kent was watching the detective narrowly; what
was he driving at? "On the contrary Turnbull was extremely popular."

"With Colonel McIntyre?" Ferguson had hoped to surprise Kent with the
question, but his companion's expression did not alter.

"N-no, perhaps he was not over-popular with the colonel," he admitted
slowly. "What prompts the question, Ferguson?"

The detective hitched his chair nearer. "I'm goin