“Very truly yours, Elaine dodge.”

If it had been a bomb I could not have been more surprised.  A moment before I think I had just a sneaking suspicion of jealousy that a woman—­even Elaine—­should interest my old chums.  But now all that was swept away.  How could any woman scorn him?

I could not make it out.

Kennedy impatiently worked the receiver up and down, repeating the number.  “Hello—­hello,” he repeated, “Yes—­hello.  Is Miss—­oh—­ good morning, Miss Dodge.”

He was hurrying along as if to give her no chance to cut him off.  “I have just received a letter, Miss Dodge, telling me that you don’t want me to continue investigating your father’s death, and not to try to see you again about—­”

He stopped.  I could hear the reply, as sometimes one can when the telephone wire conditions are a certain way and the quality of the voice of the speaker a certain kind.

“Why—­no—­Mr. Kennedy, I have written you no letter.”

The look of mingled relief and surprise that crossed Craig’s face spoke volumes.

“Miss Dodge,” he almost shouted, “this is a new trick of the Clutching Hand.  I—­I’ll be right over.”

Craig hung up the receiver and turned from the telephone.  Evidently he was thinking deeply.  Suddenly his face seemed to light up.  He made up his mind to something and a moment later he opened the cabinet—­that inexhaustible storehouse from which he seemed to draw weird and curious instruments that met the ever new problems which his strange profession brought to him.

I watched curiously.  He took out a bottle and what looked like a little hypodermic syringe, thrust them into his pocket and, for once, oblivious to my very existence, deliberately walked out of the laboratory.

I did not propose to be thus cavalierly dismissed.  I suppose it would have looked ridiculous to a third party but I followed him as hastily as if he had tried to shut the door on his own shadow.

We arrived at the corner above the Dodge house just in time to see another visitor—­Bennett—­enter.  Craig quickened his pace.  Jennings had by this time become quite reconciled to our presence and a moment later we were entering the drawing room, too.

Elaine was there, looking lovelier than ever in the plain black dress, which set off the rosy freshness of her face.

“And, Perry,” we heard her say, as we were ushered in, “someone has even forged my name—­the handwriting and everything—­telling Mr. Kennedy to drop the case—­and I never knew.”

She stopped as we entered.  We bowed and shook hands with Bennett.  Elaine’s Aunt Josephine was in the room, a perfect duenna.

“That’s the limit!” exclaimed Bennett.  “Miss Dodge has just been telling me,—­”

“Yes,” interrupted Craig.  “Look, Miss Dodge, this is it.”

He handed her the letter.  She almost seized it, examining it carefully, her large eyes opening wider in wonder.