en."

"I am an Englishman," Mr. Sabin said slowly, "and consequently am not
altogether at home with your ways over here. I have always understood,
however, that if you are in need of any special information such as we
should in England apply to the police for, over here there is a quicker
and more satisfactory method of procedure."

"You've come a long way round," Mr. Skinner remarked, spitting upon the
floor, "but you're dead right."

"I am in need of some information," Mr. Sabin continued, "and
accordingly I called this morning on Mr.--"

Mr. Skinner held up his hand.

"All right," he said. "We don't mention names more than we can help.
Call him the boss."

"He assured me that the information I was in need of was easily to be
obtained, and gave me a card to you."

"Go right on," Mr. Skinner said. "What is it?"

"On Friday last," Mr. Sabin said, "at four o'clock, the Duchess of
Souspennier, whose picture I will presently show you, left the Holland
House Hotel for the New York, New Haven & Hartford Depot, presumably for
her home at Lenox, to which place her baggage had already been checked.
On the way she ordered the cabman to set her down at the Waldorf-Astoria
Hotel, which he did at a few minutes past four. The Duchess has not
returned home or been directly heard from since. I wish to ascertain her
movements since she arrived at the Waldorf."

"Sounds dead easy," Mr. Skinner remarked reassuringly. "Got the
picture?"

Mr. Sabin touched the spring of a small gold locket which he drew
from an inside waistcoat pocket, and disclosed a beautifully painted
miniature. Mr. Skinner's thick lips were pursed into a whistle. He
was on the point of making a remark when he chanced to glance into Mr.
Sabin's face. The remark remained unspoken.

He drew a sheet of note-paper towards him and made a few notes upon it.

"The Duchess many friends in New York?"

"At present none. The few people whom she knows here are at Newport or
in Europe just now."

"Any idea whom she went to the Waldorf to see? More we know the better."

Mr. Sabin handed him the letter which had been picked up in the cab. Mr.
Skinner read it through, and spat once more upon the floor.

"What the h---'s this funny coloured pencil mean?"

"I do not know," Mr. Sabin answered. "You will see that the two
anonymous communications which I have received since arriving in New
York yesterday are written in the same manner."

Mr. Sabin handed him the other