ining has largely counterbalanced heredity in my case, but I
still pitch ball, play tennis and carve with my left hand. But Hotchkiss
was too busy with his theories to notice me.

We were only just in time for our train back to Baltimore, but McKnight
took advantage of a second's delay to shake the station agent warmly by
the hand.

"I want to express my admiration for you," he said beamingly. "Ability
of your order is thrown away here. You should have been a city
policeman, my friend."

The agent looked a trifle uncertain.

"The young lady was the one who told me to keep still," he said.

McKnight glanced at me, gave the agent's hand a final shake, and climbed
on board. But I knew perfectly that he had guessed the reason for my
delay.

He was very silent on the way home. Hotchkiss, too, had little to say.
He was reading over his notes intently, stopping now and then to make a
penciled addition. Just before we left the train Richey turned to me. "I
suppose it was the key to the door that she tied to the gate?"

"Probably. I did not ask her."

"Curious, her locking that fellow in," he reflected. "You may depend on
it, there was a good reason for it all. And I wish you wouldn't be so
suspicious of motives, Rich," I said warmly.

"Only yesterday you were the suspicious one," he retorted, and we lapsed
into strained silence.

It was late when we got to Washington. One of Mrs. Klopton's small
tyrannies was exacting punctuality at meals, and, like several other
things, I respected it. There are always some concessions that should be
made in return for faithful service.

So, as my dinner hour of seven was long past, McKnight and I went to a
little restaurant down town where they have a very decent way of fixing
chicken a la King. Hotchkiss had departed, economically bent, for a
small hotel where he lived on the American plan.

"I want to think some things over," he said in response to my invitation
to dinner, "and, anyhow, there's no use dining out when I pay the same,
dinner or no dinner, where I am stopping."

The day had been hot, and the first floor dining-room was sultry in
spite of the palms and fans which attempted to simulate the verdure and
breezes of the country.

It was crowded, too, with a typical summer night crowd, and, after
sitting for a few minutes in a sweltering corner, we got up and went
to the smaller dining-room up-stairs. Here it was not so warm, and we
settled ourselves comfortably by