CHAPTER I. Such a Feud! CHAPTER II. A Tricky Game CHAPTER III. The Scrawled Message CHAPTER IV. The Busy Police CHAPTER V. Who Were the Women? CHAPTER VI. The Little Dinner CHAPTER VII. Enlightening Interviews CHAPTER VIII. Julia Baxter CHAPTER IX. The Library Set CHAPTER X. Seek the Women CHAPTER XI. The Old Feud CHAPTER XII. One Woman and Another CHAPTER XIII. Motives CHAPTER XIV. Penny Wise CHAPTER XV. And Zizi CHAPTER XVI. Testimony CHAPTER XVII. A Woman Scorned CHAPTER XVIII. Fitted to a T

"Well, by the Great Catamaran! I think it's the most footle business I ever heard of! A regulation, clinker-built, angle-iron, sunk-hinge family feud, carried on by two women! Women! conducting a feud! They might as well conduct a bakery!" "I daresay they could do even that! Women have been known to bake—with a fair degree of success!" "Of course, of course,—but baking and conducting a bakery are not identical propositions. Women are all right, in their place,—which, by the way, is not necessari

The Prall apartment was on the eighth floor, but Richard Bates passed by the elevator and went down the stairs. Only one flight, however, and on the seventh floor, he walked along the hall, whistling in a subdued key. The air was an old song, a one-time favorite, "Won't you come out and play wiz me?" and the faint notes grew stronger as he passed a certain door. Then he went on, but soon turned, retraced his steps, and went up again the one flight of stairs. Pausing at the elevator, he pushed th

But, as it turned out, Dorcas hadn't "done it" at all. Bates on reaching his aunt's apartment found no one at home. But very soon Sir Herbert Binney appeared. "Look here, Richard," he began, "I've taken a fancy to that little girl of yours——" "She isn't mine." "You'd like her to be?" "Very much; in conditions that would please us both." "Meaning Bunless conditions. I can't offer you those, but I do say now, and, for the last time, if you will take hold of my Bun proposition, I'll give you any sa

But even the astonishing disclosure of the scrawled statement did not cause Bob Moore to lose his head. Excited and startled though he was, he was also alertly conscious that he must conduct himself with care. He had a vague fear that he might be connected with the case and weirdly enough he had a secret fear that he might not! Already in fancy he saw himself doing marvelously clever detective work that should result in getting the criminal of whom the dying efforts of the victim strove to tell

The usual and necessary routine was followed out. The Medical Examiner came and did his part; the undertakers came and did theirs; and at last Bob Moore's nervous restlessness was calmed, somewhat, by a hope of getting all signs of the tragedy obliterated before the morning's stir began in the house. "I'll wash up these blood stains, myself," Moore volunteered,—speaking to Corson, after the body had been taken away to a mortuary establishment and the Prall family had gone up to their rooms. "Oh,

The next morning at eight o'clock, Morton, the day doorman, came on duty. Corson eagerly began at once to question him, and he told the story of Sir Herbert Binney's departure from the house, but there his information ended. "All I know is, Mr Binney went away from here in a taxicab, 'long about half-past six, I think it was. And he went to the Hotel Magnifique,—at least, that's what he told the driver. And that's the last I saw of him. But his man, Peters, is due any minute,—maybe he'll know mo

The avalanche of denial, the flood of vituperation and the general hullabaloo that was set up by the four girls at Corson's accusation reduced the detective to a pulp of bewilderment. The girls saw this and pursued their advantage. They stormed and raged, and then, becoming less frightened they guyed and jollied the poor man until he determined that he must have help of some sort. Moreover, he felt sure now that these youngsters never committed murder. Even the Mersereau girl, the vamp, as she h

Richard Bates and the two detectives stood waiting for the already summoned elevator to take them downstairs. "You see," Gibbs was saying, "in nearly every investigation there's somebody who won't tell where he was at the time of the crime." "I will tell that," exploded Bates, "only I won't tell where I was through the evening, and, you know yourself, that has nothing to do with the case." "I know, and, nine times out of ten, it doesn't matter what the people were doing who refuse to tell. But i

But it proved no easy matter to trace the whereabouts of Sir Herbert Binney between the hours of twelve and two on the night he met his tragic death. The detectives were aware that he said a pleasant good-night to the chorus girls he had entertained at supper, and had left the Magnifique, alone, about midnight, but then all trace was lost. Naturally enough, for peaceable citizens are not noticed if they follow a beaten or usual path. Nor could it be discovered whether he came into the onyx lobby

Late that night,—in fact it was about midnight, when the onyx lobby was practically deserted save for an occasional late home-comer,—the two detectives arrived for a confab with Bob Moore. This greatly pleased the night porter for he hoped to be looked upon as a sort of assistant detective, and felt sure he could be of valuable help. "You know, Moore," Gibbs began, "there are people who are looking askance at you, with a sort of half-formed suspicion that you know more about this thing than you

And Detective Gibbs did retire and did make his call some other time, but he made it not on Miss Prall, but on Mrs Everett. He had fancied from her attitude that he could learn much from her if he could manage to gain her attention and enlist her sympathies. With this end in view he went to see her later the same day, and found her not unwilling to talk with him. "I thought I should die," she exclaimed, clasping her plump little hands and rocking back and forth in a becushioned wicker chair, "to

Bates' search for Gibbs or Corson resulted in finding the former in the rooms of the late Sir Herbert Binney. Peters was also there, packing up the personal effects of the dead man preparatory to vacating the apartment. As sole heir, Bates was in authority regarding these effects, but he had paid little attention to them beyond giving orders to have them packed and stored for the present. "Thought I'd dig around a bit," Gibbs vouchsafed, "but there's no indicative evidence that I can find. No pa

"I've got to speak, Ricky," Miss Prall said, but her tone was not angry now. She seemed to have changed her mood and was half frightened, half sad. "I've got to speak, to save myself. Don't you see that if that paper-cutter points towards me,—as Mr Gibbs implies, I must tell what I know——" "What you know," assented Bates, "but not what you suspect." "Yes, ma'am, what you suspect," directed the detective. "The time has come, Miss Prall, when suspicions must be voiced, whether true or not, in orde

When Richard set out to do a thing, he did it, and without consulting anybody he went at once for Pennington Wise, the detective, and by good luck, succeeding in obtaining the services of that astute investigator. Bates told him the whole story, and Wise saw at once that though the young man was fearful of his aunt's implication in the matter, he was even more alarmed at the idea of his sweetheart's mother being brought into it. "I look at it this way," Bates said; "Mrs Everett and Miss Prall ar

In her own room, Zizi was holding a confab with the chambermaid, for whom she had sent. "Yes, miss," the girl said, staring into Zizi's magnetic eyes. "I had the care of them rooms all the time Sir Binney was in 'em." "Yes, Molly, I know you did, and I want to know a few things about Sir Herbert Binney. Was he a fussy gentleman, about germs, say, and——" "Germs? miss, how do you mean?" "Was he afraid of imperfect drains, unaired mattresses or careless cleaning?" "He was not! Lordy, the germs coul

"It's inconceivable, it's impossible, it's incredible!" Richard Bates declared. "I'll never believe it! Mrs Everett, even if she had the will, could never accomplish such a deed!" "But that Kate person could," Zizi suggested, and Bates turned to her. "But Mr Wise doesn't accuse the maid,—he accuses the daughter! A gentle, innocent young girl——" "Now, wait a minute," put in Wise; "I don't say the daughter was at fault,—she might have been a tool without knowing it. I mean, she may have kept watch

"Whoever was searching in Sir Herbert's room," Dorcas began, "was after that recipe for the Binney Buns." "What's that?" asked Zizi, to draw the girl on. "Why, there's a special recipe for the buns, of course, and it's very valuable,—the buns can't be made without it,—and I can't help thinking that Mr Crippen or some messenger of his has been hunting around there for that recipe." "Why not a messenger from some other of the bakeries interested? The Popular Popovers, or whatever it's called,—or M

"Now, look here, Molly," and Wise fixed her with his piercing gaze, "you say Richard Bates married you. I don't believe it for a minute, but I do believe somebody married you, or pretended to, to keep your mouth shut on an important matter. It may have been Bob Moore, or——but I'm going to find out who it was, and I'm going to find out now. If, as you say, it was Richard Bates, why did he do it?" Molly gulped in a scared, desperate fashion and her eyes rolled wildly about as she replied, "To shie