his attention riveted upon a
small instrument which he was supporting upon his knee. So far as his
immobile features were capable of expression, they betrayed now, in the
slight parting of his lips and the added brightness of his eyes, symptoms
of a lively satisfaction. He glanced across the room to where Lenora was
bending over her desk.

"We've done it this time, young woman," he declared triumphantly. "It's
all O.K., working like a little peach."

Lenora rose and came towards him. She glanced at the instrument which
Quest was fitting into a small leather case.

"Is that the pocket wireless?"

He nodded.

"I've had Morrison out at Harlem all the morning to test it," he told her.
"I've sent him at least half-a-dozen messages from this easy-chair, and
got the replies. How are you getting on with the code?"

"Not so badly for a stupid person," Lenora replied. "I'm not nearly so
quick as Laura, of course, but I could make a message out if I took time
over it."

Laura, who had been busy with some papers at the further end of the room,
came over and joined them.

"Say, it's a dandy little affair, that, Mr. Quest," she exclaimed. "I had
a try with it, a day or so ago. Jim spoke to me from Fifth Avenue."

"We've got it tuned to a shade now," Quest declared. "Equipped with this
simple little device, you can speak to me from anywhere up to ten or a
dozen miles. What are you working on this morning, Laura?"

"Same old stunt," the girl replied. "I have been reading up the records of
the savants of New York. From what I can make out about them, it doesn't
seem to me that there's one amongst the whole bunch likely to have pluck
enough to tamper with the Professor's skeleton."

Quest frowned a little gloomily. He rose to his feet and moved restlessly
about the room.

"Say, girls," he confessed, "this is the first time in my life I have been
in a fix like this. Two cases on hand and nothing doing with either of
them. Criminologist, indeed! I guess I'd better go over to England and
take a job at Scotland Yard. That's about what I'm fit for. Whose box is
this?"

Quest had paused suddenly in front of an oak sideboard which stood against
the wall. Occupying a position upon it of some prominence was a small
black box, whose presence there seemed to him unfamiliar. Laura came over
to his side and looked at it also in puzzled fashion.

"Never saw it before in my life," she answered. "Say, kid, is this yours?"
she added, t