athed. He would go any distance out of his way to avoid harming a
fly. I cannot even trust him to procure for me the simplest specimens of
insect or animal life. Apart from this, he is a man of some property which
he has no idea what to do with. He is, I think I may say, too devoted to
me to dream of ever leaving my service."

"You think it would be out of the question, then," Quest asked, "to
associate him with the crime?"

The Professor's confidence was sublime.

"I could more readily associate you, myself, or young Mr. Rheinholdt here
with the affair," he declared.

His words carried weight. The little breath of suspicion against the
Professor's servant faded away. In a moment or two the butler returned.

"It appears, madam," he announced, "that Mr. Craig left when there was
only one person in the kitchen. He said good-night and closed the door
behind him. It is impossible to say, therefore, by which exit he left the
house, but personally I am convinced that, knowing of the reception here
to-night, he would not think of using the conservatory."

"Most unlikely, I should say," the Professor murmured. "Craig is a very
shy man. He is at all times at your disposal, Mr. Quest, if you should
desire to question him."

Quest nodded absently.

"My assistant and I," he announced, "would be glad to make a further
examination of the conservatory, if you will kindly leave us alone."

They obeyed without demur. Quest took a seat and smoked calmly, with his
eyes fixed upon the roof. Lenora went back to her examination of the
overturned plants, the mould, and the whole ground within the immediate
environs of the assault. She abandoned the search at last, however, and
came back to Quest's side. He threw away his cigar and rose.

"Nothing there?" he asked laconically.

"Not a thing," Lenora admitted.

Quest led the way towards the door.

"Lenora," he decided, "we are up against something big. There's a new hand
at work somewhere."

"No theories yet, Mr. Quest?" she asked, smiling.

"Not the ghost of one," he admitted gloomily.

* * * * *

Along the rain-swept causeway of Mayton Avenue, keeping close to the
shelter of the houses, his mackintosh turned up to his ears, his hands
buried in his pockets, a man walked swiftly along. At every block he
hesitated and looked around him. His manner was cautious, almost furtive.
Once the glare of an electric light fell upon his face, a face pallid