rette
and resigned myself to circumstance.

At Hyde Park Corner I saw the woman descending, and when presently she
walked up Hamilton Place I was not far behind her. At the door of an
imposing mansion she stopped, and in response to a ring of the bell the
door was opened by a footman, and the woman hurried in. Evidently she
was an inmate of the establishment; and conceiving that my duty was done
when I had noted the number of the house, I retraced my steps to the
corner; and, hailing a taxicab, returned to the Cafe Dame.

On inquiring of the same waiter whom Harley had accosted whether my
friend was there:

"I think a gentleman is upstairs with Mr. Meyer," said the man.

"In his office?"

"Yes, sir."

Thereupon I mounted the stairs and before a half-open door paused.
Harley's voice was audible within, and therefore I knocked and entered.

I discovered Harley standing by an American desk. Beside him in
a revolving chair which, with the desk, constituted the principal
furniture of a tiny office, sat a man in a dress-suit which had palpably
not been made for him. He had a sullen and suspiciously Teutonic cast
of countenance, and he was engaged in a voluble but hardly intelligible
speech as I entered.

"Ha, Knox!" said Harley, glancing over his shoulder, "did you manage?"

"Yes," I replied.

Harley nodded shortly and turned again to the man in the chair.

"I am sorry to give you so much trouble, Mr. Meyer," he said, "but I
should like my friend here to see the room above."

At this moment my attention was attracted by a singular object which lay
upon the desk amongst a litter of bills and accounts. This was a piece
of rusty iron bar somewhat less than three feet in length, and which
once had been painted green.

"You are looking at this tragic fragment, Knox," said Harley, taking up
the bar. "Of course"--he shrugged his shoulders--"it explains the whole
unfortunate occurrence. You see there was a flaw in the metal at this
end, here"--he indicated the spot--"and the other end had evidently worn
loose in its socket."

"But I don't understand."

"It will all be made clear at the inquest, no doubt. A most unfortunate
thing for you, Mr. Meyer."

"Most unfortunate," declared the proprietor of the restaurant, extending
his thick hands pathetically. "Most ruinous to my business."

"We will go upstairs now," said Harley. "You will kindly lead the way,
Mr. Meyer, and the whole thing will be quite clear to you, K