situation. The agent was surprised, saying that he had always
supposed a Mr. Crocker, whose name appeared on the lease, occupied
the apartment himself. The man's name not appearing in the telephone
directory, the agent had suggested that he would write to the man's
former St. Louis address. Marsh thought this a good idea, and owing
to the odd situation which had developed, left his telephone number,
suggesting that the agent let him know what he heard in the matter.

The next afternoon, the real estate agent telephoned him that a
telegram had just arrived from the man in St. Louis, stating that he
had never rented any such apartment in Chicago, had never signed any
lease, and did not know anything about the matter. To Marsh, the
situation was obvious. In renting the apartment Atwood had used the
name of a well known St. Louis man so as to have good references and
close the deal quietly without in any way bringing his own name and
personality into the matter. There was nothing in this information
to help the case in any way, yet it created a strange situation.
Here was an apartment full of furniture that rightfully belonged to
the girl, and yet he could in no way convince her of that fact
without also disclosing the other circumstances connected with the
case. All that they could do was to walk out and close the door
behind them, leaving the problem to the real estate agent to solve.
This they did on Friday afternoon, and so far as Marsh was
concerned, the Atwood apartment was of no further interest, for it
was obvious, now that Atwood was supposed to be dead, no one
connected with him would be likely to ever again visit the
apartment. He decided, however, to remain in his own apartment for
the present. The lease he had signed had still nearly a year to run.
He was comfortable, and free to come and go as he pleased, without
anyone noticing his movements. Then there was no telling how long he
would have to remain in Chicago, for he felt that the solution of
this case still rested somewhere within the city limits. At the
present moment he was facing a blank wall, but any day or hour might
furnish a new clue that would set things moving again. In fact, he
was inclined to feel that when he again heard from Morgan, the
detective would probably have valuable information for him.

It was Saturday morning, and Marsh, on his way back from breakfast
at the little waffle shop, purchased a copy of the Tribune and went
back to his