dy. It is no
good leaving things until the police are at the door and making one up on
the spur of the moment."

"Yes, I'll see about it," said Fred. "It's a good idea."

"Come in and have a drink, Fred," said "Kincher." "It will do you good.
It was dry work listening to them talking up there about the murder."

Fred accompanied Mr. Kemp into the bar of the hotel they reached, and the
elder man, after an inquiring glance at his companion, ordered two
whiskies. "Kincher" added water to the contents of each glass, and,
lifting his glass in his right hand, waited until Fred had done the same
and then said:

"Well, here's luck and long life to the man that did it--whoever he is."

Fred offered no objection to this sentiment and they drained glasses.

CHAPTER X

"And so you've had no luck, Rolfe?"

Inspector Chippenfield, glancing up from his official desk in Scotland
Yard, put this question in a tone of voice which suggested that the
speaker had expected nothing better.

"I've seen the heads of at least half a dozen likely West End shops,"
Rolfe replied, "and they tell me there is nothing to indicate where the
handkerchief was bought. The scrap of lace merely shows that it was torn
off a good handkerchief, but there is nothing about it to show that the
handkerchief was different in any marked way from the average filmy scrap
of muslin and lace which every smart woman carries as a handkerchief. I
thought so myself, before I started to make inquiries."

"Well, Rolfe, we must come at it another way," said the inspector.
"Undoubtedly there is a woman in the case, and it ought not to be
impossible to locate her. Your theory, Rolfe, is that the murder was
committed by some one who broke into the place while Sir Horace was
entertaining a lady friend or waiting for the arrival of a lady he
expected. Either the lady had not arrived or had left the room
temporarily when the burglar broke into the house. He had spotted the
place some days before and ascertained that it was empty, and when he
found that Sir Horace had returned alone he decided to break in, and,
covering Sir Horace with a revolver, try to extort money from him. A
riskier but more profitable game than burgling an empty house--if it came
off. With his revolver in his hand he made his way up to the library. Sir
Horace parleyed with him until he could reach his own revolver, and then
got in the first shot but missed his man. The burglar shot him and then