“You mean the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Barry Langmore at Beechwood Hill?”

“Yes.”

Adam Adams was surprised, although he did not show it.  What had this rich young man, who lived in Orange, New Jersey, and did business in Wall Street, to do with that double tragedy which had so shocked the community?

“I presume you know some of the particulars of the sad affair,” resumed Raymond Case.  “The newspapers have been full of it.”

“I know that the pair were found murdered.  I have not looked into details, being so busy with other matters.”

“It was an outrageous deed, Mr. Adams!” cried the young man, jumping up and beginning to pace the floor.  “One of the foulest of which I have ever heard.”

“A murder is always foul, no matter under what circumstances it is committed.  What do you wish me to do?”

“Find the murderer.”

“That may not be easy.  Are not other detectives already working on the case?”

“Yes, but they are only local men and not worth their salt.”

“They may be doing all that can be done.  It is a mistake to presume that every mystery of this sort can be solved.  Here in New York men go to their death every year and nobody ever finds out how, or by what hand.”

“But the local men simply jump at conclusions.  They are a set of blind fools, and—­” The young man stopped short.

Adam Adams smiled faintly.  He knew something of the bungling work done by detectives of small caliber.  Had he not himself once saved a poor Jew from hanging after several country detectives had apparently proved the fellow guilty?  And had not those same sleuths of the law been angry at him ever since?

“Excuse me, Mr. Case, but how is it that you take an interest in this affair?” he asked.  “Are you related to the Langmores in any way?”

“I am not.”  The young man began to blush.  “Is it necessary that I tell you why?” he stammered.

“It is not necessary for you to tell me anything,” responded the detective dryly.

“I didn’t mean to say—­”

“Let me give you a word of advice.  Never try to get a detective to do anything for you unless you are willing to tell him all you know and all you suspect.  It is generally hard enough to solve an enigma without having other mysteries attached to it.”

The young man lowered his face and looked confused for a moment.

“Then I will tell you everything,” he said.  “You may take notes if you wish.”

“It is not necessary, since I have a good memory.”

“The Langmores lived just on the outskirts of the town, on the road leading to Sidham, which is several miles distance.”

“I have a general idea of the location.”

“The house is a fine, old-fashioned stone mansion, setting well back from the road, and surrounded by a well-kept lawn and numerous trees and bushes.  At the rear of the garden is a small stream, which flows into the river a mile and a half below.”