le with the Greek, as you suggest."

CHAPTER III

THE CLOUD GROWS DARKER

Stanwick was a "made" suburb; ten years before its site had been
occupied by farms; but a keen-eyed realty man had seen promise in it and
bought it up, shrewdly. The streets were wide, the walks were narrow and
lined with trees that would one day spread nobly. The houses were built
in rows, each independent of the other, mounted upon little terraces,
fronted by guards of iron railing and prim little flower gardens. Bat
Scanlon, as he regarded it, nodded knowingly.

"It's the kind of a place where the seven-twenty is the chief topic in
the morning, and the five-fifteen in the afternoon," he told himself.
"The habits of the rubber plant are common property; and every man in
every street thinks his roses have it all over the man's next door."

Duncan Street proved much like the others; and No. 620 had all the
characteristics to be expected of it. When Scanlon stopped before it he
found a little group of idlers standing on the walk, each member of
which stared at him with a curiosity that was active and acute.

"Hello, Kelly!" saluted Bat, as he recognized a portly policeman at the
little iron gate.

"How are you, Bat?" responded the policeman, in a surprised tone. "What
are you doing away out here?"

"Just thought I'd run out and take a look around," said Scanlon. He had
seen to the training of the athletic team of the police department for
several years, and was well known to most of the officials and many of
the patrolmen. And it just happened that the man on guard at the gate,
due to Bat's instructions, had been the winner of the heavyweight
wrestling honors in the last inter-city tournament. "Anything new?"

"I haven't heard anything," replied Kelly. "Osborne, from headquarters,
went in a few minutes ago with the coroner's assistant. The sergeant and
a couple of men have been here all morning."

Bat opened the gate and went slowly up the path. The house was a bright,
cheerful-looking place; the little garden was laid out in walks, the
trees were carefully trimmed; and though it was still October,
everything had been made ready for the winter season.

"Nice little home," commented the big man. "Shows care and
thoughtfulness. No place at all for a murder."

In reply to his ring the door was opened by a second policeman. A few
words brought the sergeant in charge to the door; and he shook hands
with Scanlon and asked him to ste