t I have in mind."

"And when do you want to do it?"

"Any time the opportunity offers. I'm not going to do anything
indiscreet. I won't get in your way. But I'm deeply interested in this
thing, I've had scientific training, and I want to see if I can't do
some good."

His eyes swept once from my shoes to my head. "From amateur detectives,
as a rule--Good Lord deliver us," he said with quiet good humor. "But
Killdare--I don't see why you shouldn't. Two heads are better than
one--and I don't seem to be getting anywhere. Really, the more
intelligent help we can get--from people we can co-operate with, of
course--the better."

"I'm free, then, to go ahead?"

"Of course with reasonable limits. But ask my advice before you make any
accusations--or do anything rash."

By previous arrangement Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper, was waiting for
me on the upper floor. There could be no better chance to search the
guests' rooms. All of the men were on the lower floor, smoking their
after-dinner cigars and talking in little groups in the lounging-room
and the veranda. Of course Nealman was in his room, but even had he been
absent, a decent sense of restraint would have kept me from his
threshold. And of course Marten and Van Hope had established perfect
alibis at the inquest.

We entered Fargo's room first. It was cluttered with his bags, his guns
and rods, but the thing I was seeking did not reveal itself. I looked in
the inner pockets of his coat, in the drawers of his desk, even in the
waste-paper basket without result. Such personal documents as Fargo had
with him were evidently on his person at that moment.

Nopp's room was next, but I was less than twenty seconds across his
threshold. He had been writing a letter, it lay open on his desk, and I
needed to glance but once at the script. If my theory was right Nopp
could be permanently dropped from the list of suspects of Florey's
murder.

But the next room yielded a clew of seemingly inestimable importance.
After the drawers had been opened and searched, and the desk examined
with minute care, I searched the inner pocket of a white linen coat that
the occupant of the room had worn at the time of his arrival. In it I
found a letter, addressed to some New York firm, sealed, stamped, and
ready to send.

How familiar was the bold, free hand in which the address was written!
Not a little excited, I compared it with the script of the "George"
letter I had taken from Florey's