ed him that Wallie was losing no time in demonstrating his divine
efficiency in the matter of cooking.

Wallie's coming gave him an excuse to call up McDowell. He confessed to
a disquieting desire to hear the inspector's voice again. In the back
of his head was the fear of Shan Tung, and the hope that McDowell might
throw some light on Miriam Kirkstone's unusual request to see her that
night. The storm had settled down into a steady drizzle when he got in
touch with him, and he was relieved to find there was no change in the
friendliness of the voice that came over the telephone. If Shan Tung
had a suspicion, he had kept it to himself.

To Keith's surprise it was McDowell who spoke first of Miss Kirkstone.

"She seemed unusually anxious to get in touch with you," he said. "I am
frankly disturbed over a certain matter, Conniston, and I should like
to talk with you before you go up tonight."

Keith sniffed the air. "Wallie is going to ring the dinner bell within
half an hour. Why not slip on a raincoat and join me up here? I think
it's going to be pretty good."

"I'll come," said McDowell. "Expect me any moment."

Fifteen minutes later Keith was helping him off with his wet slicker.
He had expected McDowell to make some observation on the cheerfulness
of the birch fire and the agreeable aromas that were leaking from
Wallie's kitchen, but the inspector disappointed him. He stood for a
few moments with his back to the fire, thumbing down the tobacco in his
pipe, and he made no effort to conceal the fact that there was
something in his mind more important than dinner and the cheer of a
grate.

His eyes fell on the telephone, and he nodded toward it. "Seemed very
anxious to see you, didn't she, Conniston? I mean Miss Kirkstone."

"Rather."

McDowell seated himself and lighted a match. "Seemed--a
little--nervous--perhaps," he suggested between puffs. "As though
something had happened--or was going to happen. Don't mind my
questioning you, do you, Derry?"

"Not a bit," said Keith. "You see, I thought perhaps you might
explain--"

There was a disquieting gleam in McDowell's eyes. "It was odd that she
should call you up so soon--and in the storm--wasn't it? She expected
to find you at my office. I could fairly hear the lightning hissing
along the wires. She must have been under some unusual impulse."

"Perhaps."

McDowell was silent for a space, looking steadily at Keith, as if
measuring him up to something.

"