ace so dimly
visible in the uncertain light.

Then it was his turn to step back, his arms dropping to his sides, his
brain reeling from the shock as it apprehended the truth.

"_You!_" he gasped chokingly. "_You!_"

In that moment he was helpless, defenseless, mentally and physically
paralyzed from sheer amazement. It was the moment for which his crafty
foe had played--and won. The figure darted, forward, its right arm
rose and fell. One flicker of starlight on metal, then the thud of
steel driven home--

A single groan escaped the lips of Simon Varr before they were sealed
in death.

_XIII: A Deduction or Two_

The eleven o'clock train from New York was commendably punctual the
next morning.

Its brakes had barely ceased squealing on one side of the Hambleton
platform when Miss Ocky brought her small car to a smart halt on the
other. She sprang to the planking and waited for the passengers to
alight, her face reflecting the cheerful knowledge that she was looking
her very best that morning in a becoming hat and a well-fitting coat
and skirt of gray English tweed.

Not many people alight at Hambleton on even the liveliest occasions,
and this time a mere handful descended from the train. Among them was
a middle-aged man in a dark-blue serge, a light overcoat on one arm and
a heavy suitcase suspended from the other. He was compactly built
without being too heavy, his smooth-shaven face wore an expression of
good nature, and his eyes looked out on the world from behind
tortoise-shell glasses with a friendly twinkle that concealed something
of their sharpness. They had an inquiring expression now as he glanced
about him.

Miss Ocky did not have to be much of a detective herself to know that
here was her search concluded, though no one in the world could have
measured up less to her expectations. She had visualized something
with large feet, a big mustache and a heavy jowl, that would descend
from a smoker with a dead cigar gripped between its teeth. Silly of
her, she admitted to herself as she walked over and accosted him
briskly.

"Mr. Creighton, isn't it? Knew it must be. I'm Miss Copley, and if I
hadn't come down for you I don't know who would!"

"Very good of you, Miss Copley." He looked not unnaturally mystified
by her greeting. "I was rather expecting a friend of mine--"

"Mr. Krech? He couldn't get away from the police."

"The police!" He was startled at first, then the twinkle