“We were just talking of that Betty Blackwell disappearance case,” resumed Carton, when the greetings were over.  “What do you think of it?”

“Think of it?” repeated Kennedy promptly with a keen glance at the District Attorney; “why, Judge, I think of it the same as you evidently do.  If you didn’t think it was a case that was in some way connected with your vice and graft investigation, you wouldn’t be here.  And if I didn’t feel that it promised surprising results, aside from the interest I always have naturally in solving such mysteries, I wouldn’t be ready to take up the offer which you came here to make.”

“You’re a wizard, Kennedy,” laughed Carton, though it was easily seen that he was both pleased and relieved to think that he had enlisted Craig’s services so easily.

“Not much of a wizard.  In the first place, I know the fight you’re making.  Also, I know that you wouldn’t go to the police in the present state of armed truce between your office and Headquarters.  You want someone outside.  Well, I’m more than willing to be that person.  The whole thing, in its larger aspects, interests me.  Betty Blackwell in particular, arouses my sympathies.  That’s all.”

“Exactly, Kennedy.  This fight I’m in is going to be the fight of my life.  Just now, in addition to everything else, people are looking to me to find Betty Blackwell.  Her mother was in to see me today; there isn’t much that she could add to what has already been said.  Betty was a most attractive girl.  The family is an excellent one, but in reduced circumstances.  She had been used to a great deal as a child, but now, since the death of her father, she has had to go to work—­and you know what that means to a girl like that.”

Carton laid down a new photograph which the newspapers had not printed yet.  Betty Blackwell was slender, petite, chic.  Her dark hair was carefully groomed, and there was an air with which she wore her clothes and carried herself, even in a portrait, which showed that she was no ordinary girl.

Her soft brown eyes had that magnetic look which is dangerous to their owner if she does not know how to control it, eyes that arrested one’s gaze, invited notice.  Even the lens must have felt the spell.  It had caught, also, the soft richness of the skin of her oval face and full throat and neck.  Indeed one could not help remarking that she was really the girl to grace a fortune.  Only a turn of the hand of that fickle goddess had prevented her from doing so.

I had picked up one of the evening papers and was looking at the newspaper half-tone which more than failed to do justice to her.  Just then my eye happened on an item which I had been about to discuss with Carton when Kennedy entered.

“As a scientist, does the amnesia theory appeal to you, Craig?” I asked.  “Now, here is an explanation by one of the special writers, headed, ‘Personalities Lost Through Amnesia.’  Listen.”