ngratulate you, Mr.
Morrison, on this interesting achievement in ballistics?"

"As there is no way of properly resenting an insult from a man in your
position," said Morrison venomously, "I will reserve my answer to that
outrageous suggestion."

"Meantime," put in Average Jones, "let me direct your attention to a
simple mathematical formula." He drew from his pocket an envelope on
which were drawn some angles, subjoined by a formula. Morrison waved it
aside.

"Not interested in mathematics?" asked Average Jones solicitously. "Very
well, I'll elucidate informally. Given a bullet hole in a telegraph
pole at a certain distance, a bullet scar on an iron girder at a
certain lesser distance, and the length of a block from here to Harrison
Avenue--which I paced off while you were skillfully ordering luncheon,
Waldemar--and an easy triangulation brings us direct to this room and
to two fugitive gentlemen with whom I mention the hypothesis with all
deference, Mr. Morrison, you are probably acquainted."

"And who may they have been?" retorted Morrison contemptuously.

"I don't know," said Average Jones.

"Then, sir," retorted the racing king, "your hypothesis is as impudent
as your company is intolerable. Have you anything further to say to me?"

"Yes. It would greatly please Mr. Waldemar to publish in to-morrow's
paper an authorized statement from you to the effect that the Personal
Liberty bill will be withdrawn permanently."

"Mr. Waldemar may go to the devil. I have endured all the hectoring
I propose to. Men in my position are targets for muckrakers and
blackmailers--"

"Wait a moment," Waldemar's heavy voice broke in. "You speak of men
in your position. Do you understand just what position you are in at
present?"

Morrison rose. "Governor Arthur," he said with with stony dignity, "I
bid you good evening."

Waldemar set his bulky back against the door. The lips drew back from
Morrison's strong teeth with the snarl of an animal in the fury and
terror of approaching peril.

"Do you know Nick Karboe?"

Morrison whirled about to face Average Jones. But he did not answer the
question. He only stared.

"Carroll Morrison," continued Average Jones in his quiet drawl, "the
half-hour before he--er--committed suicide--er--Nick Karboe spent in the
office of the--er--Universal with Mr. Waldemar and--er--myself. Catch
him, Waldemar!"

For Morrison had wilted. They propped him against the wall and he, the
man who had i