MY DEAR Mr. SNOW:

I am writing as the most intimate woman friend of Marian Thorne. As
such, I have spent much thought trying to figure out exactly the reason
for the decision in your recent architectural competition; why a man
should think of such a number of very personal, intimate touches that,
from familiarity with them, I know that Miss Thorne had incorporated in
her plans, and why his winning house should be her winning house, merely
reversed.

Today I have found the answer, which I am forwarding to you, knowing
that you will understand exactly what should be done. Enclosed you will
find one of the first rough sketches Marian made of her plans. In
some mysterious manner it was lost on a night when your prize-winning
architect had dinner at our house where Miss Thorne was also a guest.
Before retiring she showed to me and explained the plans with which she
hoped to win your competition. In the morning I packed her suitcase and
handed it to the porter of her train. When she arrived at San Francisco
she found that the enclosed sheet was missing.

This afternoon tidying a garage in which Mr. Peter Morrison, the author,
is living while Henry Anderson completes a residence he is building
for him near my home, I reversed a coat belonging to Henry Anderson
to dislodge from its pocket the nest of a field mouse. In so doing I
emptied all the pockets, and in gathering up their contents I found this
lost sheet from Marian's plans.

I think nothing more need be said on my part save that I understood the
winning plan was to become the property of Nicholson and Snow. Without
waiting to see whether these plans would win or not, Henry Anderson has
them three fourths of the way materialized in Mr. Morrison's residence
in Lilac Valley which is a northwestern suburb of Los Angeles.

You probably have heard Marian speak of me, and from her you may obtain
any information you might care to have concerning my responsibility.

I am mailing the sketch to you rather than to Marian because I feel that
you are the party most deeply interested in a business way, and I hope,
too, that you will be interested in protecting my very dear friend from
the disagreeable parts of this very disagreeable situation.

Very truly yours,

LINDA STRONG.

CHAPTER XXVIII. Putting It Up to Peter

When Peter Morrison finally gave up looking in the pockets of Henry
Anderson's coat for enlightenment concerning Linda's conduct, it was
with his min