“I won’t let it get away,” I promised.  “Perhaps it’s just as well I’m not over-enthusiastic about it.”

“Let me know as soon as you have any news,” he said, and opened the door for me.

I had intended walking home, but as I turned up the Avenue, I met sweeping down it a flood of girls just released from the workshops of the neighbourhood.  I struggled against it for a few moments, then gave it up, hailed a cab, and settled back against the cushions with a sigh of relief.  I was glad to be out of Vantine’s house; something there oppressed me and left me ill at ease.  Was Vantine quite normal, I wondered?  Could any man be normal who was willing to pay a hundred thousand dollars for a piece of furniture?  Especially a man who could not afford such extravagance?  I knew the size of Vantine’s fortune; it was large, but a hundred thousand dollars represented more than a year’s income.  And then I smiled to myself.  Of course Vantine had been merely jesting when he named that limit.  The cabinet could be bought for a tenth of it, at the most.  And, still smiling, I left the cab, paid the driver, and mounted to my rooms.

CHAPTER IV

THE THUNDERBOLT

It was about eight o’clock that evening that Godfrey tapped at my door, and when I let him in, I could tell by the way his eyes were shining that he had some news.

“I can’t stay long,” he said.  “I’ve got to get down to the office and put the finishing touches on that story;” but nevertheless he took the cigar I proffered him and sank into the chair opposite my own.

I knew Godfrey, so I waited patiently until the cigar was going nicely, then—­

“Well?” I asked.

“It’s like old times, isn’t it, Lester?” and he smiled across at me.  “How many conferences have we had in this room?  How many of your cigars have I made away with?”

“Not half enough recently,” I said.  “You haven’t been here for months.”

“I’m sure to drift back, sooner or later, because you seem to have a knack of getting in on the interesting cases.  And I want to say this, Lester, that of all I ever had, not one has promised better than this one does.  If it only keeps up—­but one mustn’t expect too much!”

“You’ve been working on it, of course?”

“I haven’t been idle, and just now I’m feeling rather pleased with myself.  The coroner’s physician finished his post-mortem half an hour or so ago.”

“Well?” I said again.

“The stomach was absolutely normal.  It showed no trace of poison of any kind.”

He stretched himself, lay back in his chair, sent a smoke-ring circling toward the ceiling, and watched it, smiling absently.

“Rather a facer for our friend Goldberger,” he added, after a minute.

“What’s the matter with Goldberger?  He seemed rather peeved with you this afternoon.”

“No wonder.  He’s Grady’s man, and we’re after Grady.  Grady isn’t fit to head the detective bureau—­he got the job through his pull with Tammany—­he’s stupid, and I suspect he’s crooked.  The Record says he has got to go.”