"I see your point," he acknowledged at length. "But it would be a terrible thing for me if the fact of my delinquencies became known."
"That contingency may be entirely avoided," Markham encouraged him. "I promise you that you will not be called upon unless it is absolutely necessary. . . . And now, what I especially wanted to ask you is this: do you happen to know a Doctor Lindquist who, I understand, was Miss Odell's personal physician?"
Spotswoode was frankly puzzled. "I never heard the name," he answered. "In fact, Miss Odell never mentioned any doctor to me."
"And did you ever hear her mention the name of Skeel . . . or refer to any one as Tony?"
"Never." His answer was emphatic.
Markham lapsed into a disappointed silence. Spotswoode, too, was silent: he sat as if in a revery.
"You know, Mr. Markham," he said, after several minutes, "I ought to be ashamed to admit it, but the truth is I cared a good deal for the girl. I suppose you've kept her apartment intact. . . ." He hesitated, and a look almost of appeal came into his eyes. "I'd like to see it again if I could."
Markham regarded him sympathetically, but finally shook his head.
"It wouldn't do. You'd be sure to be recognized by the operator—or there might be a reporter about—and then I'd be unable to keep you out of the case."
The man appeared disappointed, but did not protest; and for several minutes no one spoke. Then Vance raised himself slightly in his chair.
"I say, Mr. Spotswoode, do you happen to re-
