er over,
something may occur to you. Can I trouble you for your address?"

"I am staying at Devenham House for the moment," she answered.

He wrote it down in his notebook.

"I shall perhaps do myself the honor of waiting upon you a little later
on," he said. "You may be able, after reflection, to recall some small
details, at any rate, which will be interesting to us. At present we are
absurdly ignorant as to the man's affairs."

She turned away from him to the clerk, and pointed to another door.

"Can I go out without seeing those others?" she asked. "I really have
nothing to say to them, and this has been quite a shock to me."

"By all means, madam," the clerk answered. "If you will allow me, I will
escort you to the entrance."

Two of the more enterprising of the journalists caught them up upon the
pavement. Miss Penelope Morse, however, had little to say to them.

"You must not ask me any more questions about Mr. Hamilton Fynes," she
declared. "My acquaintance with him was of the slightest. It is true
that I came here to lunch today without knowing what had happened. It
has been a shock to me, and I do not wish to talk about it, and I will
not talk about it, for the present."

She was deaf to their further questions. The hotel clerk handed her into
a taximeter cab, and gave the address to the driver. Then he went back
to his office, where Inspector Jacks was still sitting.

"This Mr. Hamilton Fynes," he remarked, "seems to have been what you
might call a secretive sort of person. Nobody appears to know anything
about him. I remember when he was staying here before that he had
no callers, and seemed to spend most of his time sitting in the palm
court."

The inspector nodded.

"He was certainly a man who knew how to keep his own counsel," he
admitted. "Most Americans are ready enough to talk about themselves and
their affairs, even to comparative strangers."

The hotel clerk nodded.

"Makes it difficult for you," he remarked.

"It makes the case very interesting," the inspector declared,
"especially when we find him engaged to lunch with a young lady of such
remarkable discretion as Miss Penelope Morse."

"You know her?" the clerk asked a little eagerly.

The inspector was engaged, apparently, in studying the pattern of the
carpet.

"Not exactly," he answered. "No, I have no absolute knowledge of Miss
Penelope Morse. By the bye, that was rather an interesting address that
she gave."

"Devenha