oung men; they talked
earnestly and in incomprehensible terms; mysterious allusions were
sprinkled thickly through it all.

"I do not think," Stumph told the mortified Edouard in the kitchen,
"that Mr. Pendleton has tasted the flavor of a single thing he has
eaten. He listens to Mr. Ashton-Kirk talk; he is surprised at
everything that he is told; there is a trembling in his hands, he is
so eager. No, I don't know what it's about. But then, I never know
what Mr. Ashton-Kirk is about. He is a very remarkable gentleman."

And no sooner was the dinner completed than Ashton-Kirk's big French
car was brought to the door and both young men got into it.

"You've looked up the road to Cordova?" inquired Ashton-Kirk of the
chauffeur.

"Yes, sir," answered the man. "Very good road and almost parallel with
the railroad. No trouble getting there by dark."

"All right. Get there as soon as you can."

They cut into a broad asphalted avenue, which eventually led them
through the north suburbs into the country. The April dusk was
settling upon the fields as they raced along; in the isolated houses,
lights were beginning to twinkle; there was a swaying among the trees
and roadside bush; the hum of the flying car must have been borne long
distances; for far away people raised their heads from the finishing
tasks of the day to look at it as it flashed by.

Pendleton lay back comfortably digesting his dinner, and ticking off
in his mind the case which engrossed him so much.

"It all tapers down to this," he said to himself. "Hume was murdered
by Locke and a confederate in order that they might gain possession of
something, the nature of which is unknown. Kirk is confident of Locke;
I think he'd even go so far as to give him into custody, if he had
the tangible proofs that the police require.

"But he lacks enthusiasm in the matter of the confederate. To my mind,
it's Spatola or Morris, or both. Both bore Hume no good will. Morris
has been spending at least part of his time with Spatola under an
assumed name; they are known to have been very much engaged in some
secret matter. Both visited Hume's on the night of the murder. An
Italian purchased the weapon with which the deed was done. A German
sentence was written in shorthand by Locke for his confederate.
Spatola admits he knows German; he grows suspicious when shorthand is
mentioned. And to wind it up, Morris has not been seen at his
apartments, his office, or by his friends, si