e
notes and messages you received."

Prale got them from the dresser drawer and handed them to Farland. The
detective looked them over, even going as far as to use a magnifying
glass.

"Don't laugh!" Farland said. "A lot of folks make fun of the fiction
detective who goes around with a magnifying glass in one hand, but,
believe me, a good glass shows up a lot of things. It isn't showing up
anything here, though. Where do you suppose these things came from?"

"I don't know," said Prale.

"Got the first one on the ship, did you?"

"The first two. One was pinned to the pillow in my stateroom, and the
second was pasted on the end of my suit case as I was landing. The
mucilage was still wet."

"Didn't suspect anybody?"

"I didn't think much about it at first," said Prale. "I thought it was a
joke, or that somebody was making a mistake."

"Sid, have you told me everything?"

Prale remembered Kate Gilbert and flushed.

"I see that you haven't," Farland said. "Out with it! Some little thing
may give me the start I am looking for."

Prale told about Kate Gilbert, about the piece of paper she had dropped
as she got into the limousine, about the peculiar way she acted toward
him, and the attitude of Marie, the misnamed maid.

"Um!" Farland grunted. "We had one thing lacking in this case--and we
have that. The woman!"

"But I only met her down there and danced with her twice."

"Don't know anything about her, I suppose?"

"Not a thing. It was understood that she belonged to a wealthy New York
family and was traveling for the benefit of her health. At least, that
was the rumor."

"I know of a lot of wealthy families in this town, but I never heard of
a Kate Gilbert," Farland said. "I think I'll make a little
investigation."

"But why on earth should she be taking a hand in my affairs?" Prale
wanted to know.

"Why should you be accused of murder? Why should men tell lies about
you?" Farland asked. "Excuse me for a time; I'm going down to the hotel
office to find out a few things."

Farland hurried away, and the police detective entered the suite again
and made himself comfortable. Jim Farland went directly to the office of
the hotel and looked at a city directory. He found no Kate Gilbert
listed, except a seamstress who resided in Brooklyn. The telephone
directory gave him no help.

But that was not conclusive, of course. A thousand Kate Gilberts might
be living in New York, in apartments or at hotels, wit