“Perhaps, Ruth, I had better—­ah—­see these gentlemen alone?” suggested her father gently.

“No, father,” she answered in a tone of forced bravery, “I think not.  I can stand it.  I must stand it.  Perhaps I can help you in telling about the—­the case.”

Mr. Winslow cleared his throat.

“We are from Goodyear, a little mill-town,” he proceeded slowly, “and as you doubtless can see we have just arrived after travelling all day.”

“Goodyear,” repeated Kennedy slowly as the man paused.  “The chief industry, of course, is rubber, I suppose.”

“Yes,” assented Mr. Winslow, “the town centres about rubber.  Our factories are not the largest but are very large, nevertheless, and are all that keep the town going.  It is on rubber, also, I fear, that the tragedy which I am about to relate hangs.  I suppose the New York papers have had nothing to say of the strange death of Bradley Cushing, a young chemist in Goodyear who was formerly employed by the mills but had lately set up a little laboratory of his own?”

Kennedy turned to me.  “Nothing unless the late editions of the evening papers have it,” I replied.

“Perhaps it is just as well,” continued Mr. Winslow.  “They wouldn’t have it straight.  In fact, no one has it straight yet.  That is why we have come to you.  You see, to my way of thinking Bradley Cushing was on the road to changing the name of the town from Goodyear to Cushing.  He was not the inventor of synthetic rubber about which you hear nowadays, but he had improved the process so much that there is no doubt that synthetic rubber would soon have been on the market cheaper and better than the best natural rubber from Para.

“Goodyear is not a large place, but it is famous for its rubber and uses a great deal of raw material.  We have sent out some of the best men in the business, seeking new sources in South America, in Mexico, in Ceylon, Malaysia and the Congo.  What our people do not know about rubber is hardly worth knowing, from the crude gum to the thousands of forms of finished products.  Goodyear is a wealthy little town, too, for its size.  Naturally all its investments are in rubber, not only in our own mills but in companies all over the world.  Last year several of our leading citizens became interested in a new concession in the Congo granted to a group of American capitalists, among whom was Lewis Borland, who is easily the local magnate of our town.  When this group organised an expedition to explore the region preparatory to taking up the concession, several of the best known people in Goodyear accompanied the party and later subscribed for large blocks of stock.