the letter, the bit of paper
with eleven twenty-two on it, that Margery gave me the first time I saw
her; a note-book filled with jerky characters that looked like Arabic
and were newspaper shorthand; a railroad schedule; a bullet, the latter
slightly flattened; a cube-shaped piece of chalk which I put back in its
box with a shudder, and labeled 'poison,' and a small gold buckle from a
slipper, which I--at which I did not shudder.

I did not need to make the climaxes of my story. They lay before me.

I walked to the office that morning, and on the way I found and
interviewed the corner-man at Chestnut and Union. But he was of small
assistance. He remembered the incident, but the gentleman in the taxicab
had not been hurt and refused to give his name, saying he was merely
passing through the city from one railroad station to another, and did
not wish any notoriety.

At eleven o'clock Hunter called up; he said he was going after the
affair himself, but that it was hard to stick a dip net into the
political puddle without pulling out a lot more than you went after, or
than it was healthy to get. He was inclined to be facetious, and wanted
to know if I had come across any more k. v's. Whereupon I put away the
notes I had made about Delia and Mamie Brennan and I heard him chuckle
as I rang off.

I went to Bellwood that evening. It was a suburban town a dozen miles
from the city, with a picturesque station, surrounded by lawns and
cement walks. Street-cars had so far failed to spoil its tree-bordered
streets, and it was exclusive to the point of stagnation. The Maitland
place was at the head of the main street, which had at one time been its
drive. Miss Letitia, who was seventy, had had sufficient commercial
instinct, some years before, to cut her ancestral acres--_their_
ancestral acres, although Miss Jane hardly counted--into building lots,
except perhaps an acre which surrounded the house. Thus, the Maitland
ladies were reputed to be extremely wealthy. And as they never spent any
money, no doubt they were.

The homestead as I knew it, was one of impeccable housekeeping and
unmitigated gloom. There was a chill that rushed from the old-fashioned
center hall to greet the new-comer on the porch, and that seemed to
freeze up whatever in him was spontaneous and cheerful.

I had taken dinner at Bellwood before, and the memory was not hilarious.
Miss Letitia was deaf, but chose to ignore the fact. With superb
indifference