w at the driver's back. Then he squared around and faced
me.

"Understand me, Mr. Knox," he said, "Mr. Fleming killed himself. You and
I are agreed on that. Even if you aren't just convinced of it I'm
telling you, and--better let it drop, sir," Under his quiet manner I
felt a threat: it served to rouse me.

"I'll let it drop when I'm through with it," I asserted, and got out my
list of addresses.

"You'll let it drop because it's too hot to hold," he retorted, with the
suspicion of a smile. "If you are determined to know about Carter, I can
tell you everything that is necessary."

The chauffeur stopped his engine with an exasperated jerk and settled
down in his seat, every line of his back bristling with irritation.

"I prefer learning from Carter himself."

He leaned back in his seat and produced an apple from the pocket of his
coat.

"You'll have to travel some to do it, son," he said. "Carter left for
parts unknown last night, taking with him enough money to keep him in
comfort for some little time."

"Until all this blows over," I said bitterly.

"The trip was for the benefit of his health. He has been suffering--and
is still suffering, from a curious lapse of memory." Davidson smiled at
me engagingly. "He has entirely forgotten everything that occurred from
the time he entered Mr. Fleming's employment, until that gentleman left
home. I doubt if he will ever recover."

With Carter gone, his retreat covered by the police, supplied with funds
from some problematical source, further search for him was worse than
useless. In fact, Davidson strongly intimated that it might be dangerous
and would be certainly unpleasant. I yielded ungraciously and ordered
the cab to take me home. But on the way I cursed my folly for not having
followed this obvious clue earlier, and I wondered what this thing could
be that Carter knew, that was at least surmised by various headquarters
men, and yet was so carefully hidden from the world at large.

The party newspapers had come out that day with a signed statement from
Mr. Fleming's physician in Plattsburg that he had been in ill health and
inclined to melancholia for some time. The air was thick with rumors of
differences with his party: the dust cloud covered everything; pretty
soon it would settle and hide the tracks of those who had hurried to
cover under its protection.

Davidson left me at a corner down-town. He turned to give me a parting
admonition.

"There's an ol