ssed, during which Jim Farland and the man
by the table exchanged pleasant remarks concerning each other, neither
getting much the best of the argument.

Then the hall door was opened again, and a masked man entered the room!

Remembering what Murk had related to him concerning his experience of
the night before, Jim Farland looked up at this newcomer with sudden
interest.

This man, undoubtedly, was a sort of leader, one who had hired others to
help him in his work and who knew the identities of Sidney Prale's
mysterious enemies, and why they were working against him; perhaps,
also, the man who could tell a good deal about the murder of Rufus
Shepley.

Farland did not betray too much interest, though, for he sensed that he
was opposed to a person of brains and cunning, a different type from the
thugs he hired to work for him. So the detective merely blinked his eyes
rapidly as he looked up at the other and waited for him to speak.

"You are Jim Farland, a detective?"

The voice was low and harsh, a monotone, a disguised voice in fact. Jim
Farland knew that at once.

"That's my name, and some people are kind enough to say that I am a
detective," Farland replied. "What's the idea of treating me rough like
this?"

"I regret that violence was necessary to get you here, Mr. Farland," the
masked man replied, "but it seemed to be the only way in which I could
get a chance to talk to you freely without subjecting myself to danger."

"Why regret?" Farland asked.

"Because I want you for my friend instead of my enemy, Mr. Farland, and
I fancy that we may be able to come to terms. I shall send this man of
mine from the room and submit a proposition to you. I hope you see fit
to accept it."

He motioned for the other man to leave, which he did immediately,
closing the hall door behind him. Then the masked man sat down in the
chair by the table.

Farland was watching him closely now. The collar of his coat and the
handkerchief mask effectually shielded his face and head. But, as Murk
had told, this man did not have the common sense to cover his hands, and
Farland looked at them when he could, careful not to let the other
suspect his object.

"I am the man who talked to Mr. Prale's valet last night," Farland heard
the other say. "In some manner, the valet escaped, and so we were
obliged to have you brought here instead of to the place where we had
him, and which was considerably nearer the city. I regret it if the l