its frankness. And he seemed to return my liking--certainly it was he
who sought me, not I who sought him. He was being delayed, he
explained, in establishing his business; he could not get just the
quarters he desired, but in another week there would be a place
vacant. He would ask me to draw up the lease. Meanwhile, time hung
rather heavily on his hands.

"Though I do not quarrel with that," he added, sitting in my room one
evening. "It is necessary for me that I take life easily. I have a
weakness of the heart, which has already given me much trouble.
Besides, I have your companionship, which is most welcome, and for
which I thank you. I trust Mees--Mees--what you call--Holladay is
again well."

"We haven't heard from her," I said. "She is still at her place in the
country."

"Oh, she is doubtless well--in her I take such an interest--you will
pardon me if I weary you."

"Weary me? But you don't!"

"Then I will make bold to ask you--have you made any--what you
call--theory of the crime?"

"No," I answered; "that is, none beyond what was in the
newspapers--the illegitimate daughter theory. I suppose you saw it.
That seems to fit the case."

He nodded meditatively. "Yet I like to imagine how Monsieur Lecoq
would approach it. Would he believe it was a murder simply because it
so appeared? Has it occurred to you that Mees Holladay truly might
have visited her father, and that his death was not a murder at all,
but an accident?"

"An accident?" I repeated. "How could it be an accident? How could a
man be stabbed accidentally in the neck? Besides, even if it were an
accident, how would that explain his daughter's rushing from the
building without trying to save him, without giving the alarm? If it
wasn't a murder, why should the woman, whoever she was, be frightened?
How else can you explain her flight?"

He was looking at me thoughtfully. "All that you say is ver' true," he
said. "It shows that you have given to the case much thought. I
believe that you also have a fondness for crimes of mystery," and he
smiled at me. "Is it not so, Mistair Lester?"

"I had never suspected it," I laughed, "until this case came up, but
the microbe seems to have bitten me."

"Ah, yes," he said doubtfully, not quite understanding.

"And I've rather fancied at times," I admitted, "that I should like to
take a hand at solving it--though, of course, I never shall. Our
connection with the case is ended."

He shot me a quick