to find this man, we'll do it," Bristow assured him.

Braceway sprang to his feet.

"You can bet your last dollar on that, Mr. Fulton," he said heartily, "If
he's to be found, we'll get him."

The old man got to his feet. The recital of his story had weakened him.
His legs were a little unsteady. Braceway took him by the arm, and they
started down the steps.

"Will I see you again this afternoon?" Bristow called to the Atlanta
detective.

"I rather think so," Braceway threw back over his shoulder. "As soon as
I've had lunch I want to talk to Abrahamson. Chief Greenleaf seems to
have neglected him."

Bristow hesitated a moment, then limped down the steps.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Fulton," he said, overtaking the two, "but is
there nothing more, no hint, no probable clue, you can give us about this
mysterious man?"

"Absolutely nothing," Fulton answered wearily. "I've told you all I
know."

"You gave him--rather, you gave your daughter for him a total of
seventeen thousand dollars, counting the loan of two thousand and the
cost of redeeming the jewels both times. I beg your pardon for seeming
insistent, but is it possible that you passed over that much money
without even asking why she had been obliged to use it? Not many people
would credit such a thing."

Fulton smiled, and for a moment his grief seemed lightened by the hint of
happy memories.

"Ah, you didn't know my daughter, sir," he said. "She was irresistible,
not to be denied--one of the ardent flames of life. If she had asked me,
I would have given her treble that amount--anything, anything, sir."

Bristow thought of what had been said of her in Atlanta: that all women
liked her and that any man who had shaken hands with her was her
unquestioning servant. Surely such a woman would have been irresistible
in her requests to her father.

He ventured another line of inquiry:

"When you arrived at Number Five this morning, I was in the living room,
and I saw the meeting between you and Miss Maria Fulton. I came away as
soon as I could, but I couldn't help noting your expression as you
greeted her. It seemed to me that there was accusation in it."

"There was," the old man assented. "Enid had written me that Maria had
been pressing her for money, too much money. Naturally, when I heard of
the--the tragedy, I coupled it with the old, old thing that had always
been a burden on Enid--money. And this time I blamed Maria. Of course,
however, that was a