licity—another story concerning the Axton family exploited in the daily papers!"
"I had no intention of consulting the police, or of calling them in, at least until I was ready to make the arrest."
"I must confess, Mr. Trant," said Axton easily, "that I find you a very different man from what I had expected. I imagined an uneducated, somewhat brutal, perhaps talkative fellow; but I find you, if I may say so, a gentleman. Yes, I am tempted to let you continue your investigation—on the lines you have suggested."
"I shall ask your help."
"I will help you as much as is in my power."
"Then let me begin, Mr. Axton, with a question—pardon me if I open a window, for the room is rather warm—I want to know whether you can supplement these letters, which so far are the only real evidence against the man, by any further description of him," and Trant, who had thrown open the window beside him, undisturbed by the roar that filled the office from the traffic-laden street below, took the letters from his pocket and opened them one by one, clumsily, upon the desk.
"I am afraid I cannot add anything to them, Mr. Trant."
"We must get on then with what we have here," the psychologist hitched his chair near to the window to get a better light on the paper in his hand, and his cuff knocked one of the other letters off the desk onto the windowsill. He turned, hastily but clumsily, and touched, but could not grasp it before it slipped from
