Baffling detective stories in which Fleming Stone, the great American Detective, displays his remarkable ingenuity for unravelling mysteries Author of "A Chain of Evidence," "Vicky Van," etc....

"Well, go to church then, and I hope to goodness you'll come back in a more spiritual frame of mind! Though how you can feel spiritual in that flibbertigibbet dress is more than I know! An actress, indeed! No mummers' masks have ever blotted the scutcheon of my family tree. The Clydes were decent, God-fearing people, and I don't propose, Miss, that you shall disgrace the name." Ursula Pell shook her good-looking gray head and glowered at her pretty niece, who was getting into a comfortable thoug

Ursula Pell leaned back in her chair and shrieked with laughter. "She will have stuffed dates and fancy fixin's, will she?" she cried; "I just guess she's had enough of those fallals now!" "It quite spoiled her pretty frock," said Mrs. Bowen, timidly remonstrant. "That's nothing, I'll buy her another. Oh, I did that pretty cleverly, I can tell you! I took a little capsule, a long, thin one, and I filled it with ink, just as you'd fill a fountain pen. Oh, oh! Iris was so mad! She never suspected

Winston Bannard's apartments in New York were comfortable though not luxurious. The Caxton Annex catered to young bachelors who were not millionaires but who liked to live pleasantly, and Bannard had been contentedly ensconced there ever since he had left his aunt's home. He had always been glad he had made the move, for the city life was far more to his liking than the village ways of Berrien, and if his law practice could not be called enormous, it was growing and he had developed some real ab

"You must be out of your mind, Mr. Hughes," said Bannard; but, as a matter of fact, he looked more as if he himself were demented. His face wore a wild, frightened expression, and his fingers twitched nervously, as he picked at the edge of his coat. "Of course, I haven't been up here to-day, before I came this evening. That New York Herald was never in my possession. Because I live in New York City, I'm not the only one who reads the 'Herald.'" "But your aunt subscribed only to The Times . Where

And so the case went to the coroner's jury. And after some discussion they returned the inevitable verdict of murder by person or persons unknown. Some of them preferred the phrase, "causes unknown." But others pointed out that the physical causes of Mrs. Pell's death were only too evident; the question was: Who was the perpetrator of the ghastly deed? And so the foreman somewhat importantly announced that the deceased met her death at the hands of persons unknown, and in most mysterious and ine

"I am Miss Lucille Darrel." People are usually cognizant of their own names, but few could throw more convincing certainty into the announcement than the speaker. One felt sure at once that her name was as she stated and had been so for a long time. The first adjective one would think of applying to Miss Darrel would be "positive." She was that by every implication of her being. Her hair was positively white, her eyes positively black. Her manner and expression were positive, and her very walk,

"It's just this way," said Lucille Darrel, positively, "this house is mine, and I want it to myself. Ursula Pell is dead and buried and she can't play any more tricks on anybody. I admit that was a hard joke on you, Iris, to get a dime and pin, when for years you've been expecting a diamond pin! I can't help laughing every time I think of it! But all the same, that's your business, not mine. And, of course, you and Mr. Bannard will get your jewels yet, somehow. That woman left some explanation o

The shock of Bannard's arrest caused the complete collapse of Iris. Miss Darrel put the girl to bed and sent for Doctor Littell. He prescribed only rest and quiet and ordinary care, saying that a nurse was unnecessary, as Iris' physical health was unaffected and he knew her well enough to feel sure that she would recuperate quickly. And she did. A day or two later she was herself again, and ready to follow up her determination to avenge the death of Ursula Pell. "It's too absurd to suspect Win!"

Wearily, Iris went upstairs to her own room, and closed the door. Then she opened it again, for the night was hot and stifling. Without turning on a light, she went and sat by an open window, leaning her arms on the sill, and staring, with unseeing gaze, out into the night. She was thinking about Bannard, and her thoughts were in a chaos. Not for a moment did she believe him guilty of his aunt's death, but she could not help a conviction that he had been at Pellbrook that Sunday afternoon. She w

When Iris failed to respond to the summons for dinner, Miss Darrel waited a few moments and then took her own place at the table. "Go and find Miss Clyde," she said to Agnes; "I do wish people would be prompt at meals, especially when they're guests." Lucille never allowed any one of her household to forget that she was now mistress of Pellbrook, and she longed for the time when the mystery would be cleared up and she might be left to the possession of her new home. Being Sunday, it was a case o

"The murder mystery is bad enough," said Hughes, "but this disappearance of Miss Clyde is also alarming. There is deep deviltry going on, and since Winston Bannard is in custody it can't be assumed that he had any hand in the matter." "Unless Iris is doing something for Win," suggested Miss Darrel. "They may be working in collusion——" began Hughes, but Mr. Chapin interrupted. "Don't use such an expression! Working in collusion implies wrong-doing. If those two, or either of them, should be hunti

The three looked at one another in consternation. "Hughes said it was unsafe," Chapin remarked. "He said you didn't remember to pull down the shades in this room when you hid the pin, Iris." "No, I didn't, but who could get in? The windows are barred——" "But the door to the living room was open, and we were all in the dining room—anyone could have come in at the front door and walked in here——" "Very silently, then, or we could have heard footsteps from the dining room." "But it must have been d

Fleming Stone carried his years lightly. Except for the slight graying at his temples, no one would think that he had arrived, as he had, at the years that are called middle-aged. But an especially interesting problem so stirred his enthusiasm and roused his energies that he grew young again, and his dark eyes fairly scintillated with eagerness and power. "Tell me everything," he repeated, even after he had heard all the details over and over again. "Omit nothing—no tiniest point. It all helps."

"There are two things to find," Fleming Stone said, "the murderer and the pin. There are two things to find out, how the murderer got away, and why the pin is valuable." Stone persisted in his belief that the pin was of value, and that in some way it would lead to the discovery of the jewels. He had read all of Ursula Pell's diary, and though it gave no definite assurance, there were hints in it that strengthened his theory. Before he had been in the Pell house twenty-four hours, he had learned

Fibsy stuck to half-witted Sam like a leech. The boy's theory was that Sam had stolen the pin, as he said, and that he had hidden it with the cunning of a defective mind, in a place most unlikely to be suspected. So Fibsy cultivated the lackwit's acquaintance and established friendly relations. Agnes rather resented Fibsy's attitude, but his wheedlesome ways won her heart, too, and the three were often together. In fact, Fibsy enlisted Agnes on his side, and convinced her that they must learn fr

As Stone surmised, Iris was kidnapped again. When she leaned down to gather in her arms the little, yelping dog, a figure sprang from the shrubbery, and pressing a cloth into and over her mouth a man lifted her from the ground and carried her swiftly away. Iris was a slender girl and the man had no difficulty in carrying her to a small motor car, which was waiting out in the main road. The dusk rendered them nearly invisible, and the detention of Stone by Lucille precluded what might have been a

"And how would the dime help, if we had it?" Iris pursued the subject. "I'm not at all sure that it would," Stone replied, "but there must be some hint on it as to the keyword. I tried an ordinary dime, thinking the word we need might be 'Liberty' or 'United' or 'America,' But none of those would work. I tried to think out a way where the date on the dime would help——" "But you don't know the date!" "No; but I tried to find a way where a date would apply, but I can't think figures are needed, it

"I am here," he muttered, "I have killed her, or, at least, she is dying—lying there on the floor, dying—I have to get out before the servants break in—I can't get out, there's no way I can get out. Mr. Stone, he didn't get out, because——" "Because he wasn't in!" interrupted Fleming Stone, excitedly. "Oh, Fibs, do you see it that way too?" "Sure I do! Fancy anybody untyin' a lot o' ropes, and freein' the lady and makin' a getaway, ropes and all, in two or three minutes, and besides, he couldn't