t that the dead man's
valet had been discharged at some time during the twenty-four hours which
immediately preceded the killing. It was as if his instinct recognized a
combination of circumstances which could not be ignored. Carroll looked
up interestedly.

"Have you talked to this fellow?"

"No. I figured I'd better leave that phase of it to you; but I'm having
him watched. Cartwright is on the job. Right now the man is at his
boarding-place on Larson Street."

Carroll started for the door.

"Let's go," he suggested laconically.

It was but a few minutes' drive from headquarters to the boarding-house
of Roland Warren's former valet. Carroll parked his car at the curb and
inspected the place closely from the outside.

There was little architectural beauty to recommend the house. It was a
rambling, dilapidated, two-story structure, sadly in need of paint and
repairs, and bespeaking occupancy by a family none too well blessed
with the better things of existence. They proceeded to the door and
rang the bell. A slatternly woman answered their summons, and Leverage
addressed her:

"We wish to see William Barker, please."

"William Barker?"

"Yes. I believe he moved here yesterday."

"Oh, that feller!" The woman started inside. "Wait a minute," she said
crossly, and shut the door in their faces.

While they stood waiting, Leverage glanced keenly up and down the street,
and his eye lighted on the muscular figure of Cartwright, the
plainclothes man, shivering in the partial shelter of an alley across the
way. The policeman signaled them that all was well, and resumed his
vigil. At that minute the door opened and the woman reappeared.

"He ain't home!" she said, and promptly closed the door again.

Carroll looked at Leverage and Leverage looked at Carroll. Leverage
crossed the street and interrogated Cartwright.

"The landlady says he's out, Cartwright. How about it?"

"Bum steer, chief! The bird's there--I'll bet my silk shirt on it!"

Leverage recrossed the street and reported to Carroll.

"You're pretty sure Cartwright has the straight dope!"

"Sure thing," said the chief. "He's one of the most reliable men on the
force, and when he says a thing, he knows it."

Carroll stroked his beardless chin. There was a hard, calculating light
in his eyes--eyes which alternated between a soft, friendly blue and a
steely gray. Finally he looked up at Leverage.

"What's your idea, Eric?"

"About him sendin' word