himself if Mrs. Parlin was not likely to sell it and move into a smaller house.
Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable thoughts, he returned to the hotel and was confronted by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace. He was in what he called a "blue funk," and did not regain his self-control until he found himself in McManus's room, where a sense of security seemed to seize him.
"I'll put this window on to the porch down and draw the shades," he said, suiting the action to the word. "I've got some things to say that mustn't be overheard."
They were at the table with cigars lighted, before McManus responded with reference to the affair in hand:
"Have you made any progress?"
"I've got the thing down to a dot," he answered; "with the one exception—you'll say important—of the man. I can tell you how that murder was committed, and when I have, I think you'll agree with my prediction of a fortnight ago as to the
