"Do you spell it with a 'C'?" asked Quincy, innocently, as he pretended to write.

"Oh, certainly. C-a-s-s-."

"Thank you," said Quincy.

"We make it a rule, or rather my employer does, that tenants and their callers shall be treated with civility and their wants attended to promptly."

Again Quincy eyed the telephone stand with a view to its use as a weapon.

"Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling! Miss Dana--yes, Mr. Ca.s.s--Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, Junior, wishes to call upon you in your sitting-room. Is it agreeable to you? Very well, he will come right up."

Mr. Ca.s.s replaced the receiver with deliberation, first unwinding a tangled coil in the cord.

"Take the elevator--third floor--number 42--she insisted upon taking that suite for some personal reason--"

Quincy waited to hear no more but started for the elevator. Mr. Ca.s.s reached it as soon as he did, and motioned for the elevator man to postpone the ascent until he had finished his remarks.

"The outside door is locked at eleven, Mr. Sawyer, but you have only to turn the upper handle to insure an exit."

"Your clerk is quite loquacious," remarked Quincy as they slowly mounted upward.

"What's that?"

"He has a sore tongue," said Quincy, as the elevator door was closed behind him.

After cordial greetings on both sides, for they had not seen each other for nearly a year, Quincy exclaimed, as he sank into a proffered easy chair: "Mary, I am a murderer at heart."

"That is not strange, Quincy. I have read that the friends of police officers and detectives often imbibe, or rather absorb, criminal propensities. Who is the intended victim, and how do you expect to escape arrest, conviction, and punishment, after incriminating yourself by a confession to a licensed detective?"

"If I had killed your hotel clerk it would have been due to emotional insanity, and I should expect an acquittal--and, perhaps, a testimonial."

"I got a testimonial to-day from Mr. Isburn. He said I was a wonder."

"I agree with him."

Miss Dana flushed perceptibly.

"He had what he considered a good reason for his compliment. I am afraid yours rests on unsupported grounds."

"Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to me in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill of exchange I will never forget," and for a long time Quincy and Mary talked over the miraculous return of his father.

Finally Quincy said, "I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me what they were?"

"It is a long story."

"I'm all attention."

"Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it."

"Is there a bar?"

"No, but there's a cellar."

"I may need some Apollinaris," said Quincy, as he settled himself more comfortably in the easy chair; "as my flesh is again strong, I always take my spirit very weak."

Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm--a low-pitched voice, and as she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman who uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was the Lord and the story-teller was the Lady.

He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query:

"Didn't I fool him nicely?"

"You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the business. If he keeps his word"--

"Which I very much doubt," interrupted Mary.

"I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners."

He came near adding "for life," but decided that such a declaration would be inopportune. "Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You are not obliged to work."

"That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer of my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile business. I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell--to advantage. I heard a story not long ago that set me thinking."

"I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?"

"I will. It's a mystery--unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking."

Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he concluded, he asked: "Do you think it was signed?"

"Of course it was, but not by the dead man."

"By whom, then?"

"By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, but she signed the will."

"But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and write his name."

"They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she impressed upon their minds."

"Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?"

"The bigger the brain the more easily influenced. She couldn't have so impressed an idiot, or an illiterate, unreceptive man. Let me tell you how a hundred people were fooled lately."

"I should be delighted to hear you tell it."

"You should have sympathy for them, after your spiritualistic experience," said Mary with a smile.

"There is a married couple in this city whom we will call Mr. and Mrs.

Cartwright, because those are not their names. They have been married less than two years. He is 68 and she 28, so you see it was what they call a December and May union. It was worse. He is a bank president and his G.o.d is money--his diversion sitting in his elegant library and reading _de luxe_ editions of the world's literary masterpieces. She is young, and beautiful, and craves society, attention, admiration.

"She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library until it was time to escort her home.