The room which he passed
into from the hall was fitted up like a bachelor's parlor. Comfortable
stuffed chairs and two sofas, a folding reading-chair, an upright piano
in mahogany case with handsome piano-lamp beside it, a carved
centre-table on which stood a reading-lamp, cigar case in bronze,
photo-albums, handsome pictures on the walls in gold frames, elegant
vases on the mantel, an onyx clock, a full-sized figure of a Moor carved
in wood serving as a card-receiver,--in fact everything about the place
was significant of wealth, luxury, and refinement. Could this be the den
of a murderer? It seemed not, unless there might be some powerful hidden
motive, which would make a man who was evidently a gentleman, stoop to
such a crime. According to Mr. Barnes's experience such a motive must
involve a woman. As yet there was no woman in this case, save the corpse
which he had just left. All this flashed through the detective's mind as
he noted his surroundings in a few swift glances. Then he heard a voice
from the next room say:

"Come in, Mr. Barnes: we must not stand upon ceremony with one another."

Mr. Barnes in answer to the invitation crossed into the adjoining room
and noticed at once that the sleeping apartment was as luxurious as the
parlor. Mr. Mitchel was standing in front of a mirror shaving himself,
being robed in a silk morning wrapper.

"Pardon this intrusion," began Mr. Barnes. "But you told me I might call
at any time, and----"

"No excuses necessary, except from me. But I must finish shaving, you
know. A man can't talk with lather on one side of his face."

"Certainly not. Don't hurry, I can wait."

"Thank you. Take a seat. You will find that armchair by the bed
comfortable. This is an odd hour to be making one's toilet but the fact
is I was out late last night."

"At the club, I suppose," said Mr. Barnes, wishing to see if Mr. Mitchel
would lie to him. In this he was disappointed, for the reply was:

"No, I went to the Casino. Lillian Russell you know has returned. I had
promised a friend to go, so we went."

"A gentleman?"

"Are you not getting inquisitive? No, not a gentleman, but a lady. In
fact, that is her picture on that easel."

Mr. Barnes looked, and saw an oil painting representing a marvellously
beautiful female head. A brunette of strong emotions and great will
power if her portrait were truthful. Here was a significant fact. Mr.
Mitchel said that he had been to the Casino with this