,
please."

Cavendish grasped the penholder in his fingers, and signed. It was the
act of a man dazed, half stupefied, unable to control his actions.
With trembling hand, and white face, he sat staring at the paper,
scarcely comprehending its real meaning. In a way it was a confession
of guilt, an acknowledgment of his fear of exposure, yet he felt
utterly incapable of resistance. Enright unlocked the door, and
projected his head outside, comprehending clearly that the proper time
to strike was while the iron was hot.

Calling Miss Healey, one of his stenographers, he made her an official
witness to the document and the signature of John Cavendish.

Not until ten minutes later when he was on the street did it occur to
John Cavendish that the carbon copy of the will, together with the
rough notes in his cousin's handwriting, still remained in Enright's
possession. Vainly he tried to force himself to return and demand
them, but his nerve failed, and he shuffled away hopelessly in the
hurrying crowds.

CHAPTER IV: A BREATH OF SUSPICION

As Francois Valois trudged along the night streets toward his rooming
house his heart was plunged in sorrow and suspicion. To be discharged
from a comfortable position for no apparent reason when one
contemplated no sweet alliance was bad enough, but to be discharged
when one planned marriage to so charming a creature as Josette La Baum
was nothing short of a blow. Josette herself had admitted that and
promptly turned Francois's hazards as to young Cavendish's motives into
smouldering suspicion, which he dared not voice. Now, as he paused
before a delicatessen window realising that unless he soon obtained
another position its dainties would be denied him, these same
suspicions assailed him again.

Disheartened, he turned from the pane and was about to move away, when
he came face to face with a trim young woman in a smart blue serge.
"Oh, hello!" she cried pleasantly, bringing up short. Then seeing the
puzzled look upon the valet's face, she said: "Don't you remember me?
I'm Miss Donovan of the _Star_. I came up to the apartments the
morning of the Cavendish murder with one of the boys."

Valois smiled warmly; men usually did for Miss Donovan. "I remember,"
he said dolorously.

The girl sensed some underlying sorrow in his voice and with
professional skill learned the cause within a minute. Then, because
she believed that there might be more to be told, and becau