ed smile on his lips. So Theodore
Dalton found him when he entered, fifteen seconds later--a mighty man,
deep of chest, savage of eye, square of chin, with great hairy hands and
a shaggy gray head. Not more than a single second did Dalton look at
Hitchin before he barked:

"Well? Well? You are bringing word of her?"

"Her?" smiled Hobart Hitchin, with unearthly calm.

"My daughter!" Theodore Dalton thundered. "What----"

"I know nothing about your daughter, Dalton," Hitchin said, with his icy
smile. "Will you be seated?"

"No!" said the master of the house. "What the devil do you want here, if
it isn't about my daughter?"

"I want just five minutes conversation with you, on a matter which
concerns you most vitally."

Theodore Dalton closed his hairy fists.

"Look here, sir," he said, with a calm of his own which was decidedly
impressive. "If you're jackass enough to come in here on the morning
when my daughter--_my daughter_--has disappeared--if you're clown enough
to try to sell me anything----"

"I'm not trying to sell you anything; I'm trying to tell you something!"
Hitchin said, and there was something so very peculiar about his smile
that even Theodore Dalton postponed the forcible eviction for a few
minutes.

"Tell me what?"

"Dalton," said Hobart Hitchin, "the game is up!"

"_What?_" rasped Mr. Dalton.

"The boy, David Prentiss--or what remains of the boy, David
Prentiss--has just been brought into your house. _And I know!_"

Theodore Dalton said nothing; for a moment he could say nothing.
Hitchin's teeth showed in a triumphant smile.

"Murder will out!" said he. "Murder----"

"_Murder!_" Theodore Dalton snarled. "What the----"

"David Prentiss, who was murdered last night, has been brought here!"
the palpable lunatic pursued. "Don't shout! Don't try to strike me!
_Look!_"

Already he had opened the brief-case; now, with a dramatic whisk, he
spread the trousers on the table.

And if he looked for an effect upon Dalton, the effect was there even in
excess of any expectation! Theodore Dalton, after one quick downward
glance, cried out queerly, thickly, far down in his throat! His eyes
seemed to start from his head; his hands, going out together, snatched
up the trousers and held them nearer to the window. With a jerk,
Theodore Dalton turned one of the rear pockets inside out and looked
swiftly at the little linen name-plate sewed therein by the tailor who
had made them.

The trousers dro