and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache!

Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx of letters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle.

“Let me see,” he mused.  “Thursday, January seventh, was the date upon which Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald.  Any man who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code as this must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have much to put upon that record worth the trouble.  Here may lay the secret of the entire case.”

At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no more proximity to solution than at the inception of his effort.  It was almost half-past eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren’s apartment.  He sent a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, to his rooms at the club on Forty-fourth Street.  It was too interesting a document to risk taking up to that apartment again, after Helene’s exertions in obtaining it.

The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellished dwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causing out-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums of money with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all.

The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren’s apartment.  “You-all can go right up, boss.  He’s holdin’ forth for another of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night.  Dat gemman alluz has too many callin’ to bother with the telephone when he has a party.  You don’t need no announcin’.”

The man directed him to the door on the left.  Closed as it was the sounds of merrymaking emanated into the corridor.  Shirley’s pressure on the bell was answered by Shine Taylor’s startled face.  Warren stood behind him.  The surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composure bespoke trained self-control.

“I’m sorry to be late,” was the criminologist’s greeting.  “But I came up to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold.  We missed connections somewhere, and I couldn’t find her.”

“I am so pleased to have you with us anyway.  We’ll try to get along without her—­” but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture.

A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him.  Helene Marigold waved a champagne glass at Shirley.

“There’s my tardy escort now.  I’m here, Shirley old top!  Te, he!  You see I played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomer man than you.”  She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waved a white hand at him as she coaxed.  “Come on in, old dear, and don’t be cross now with your little Bonbon Tootems!”

Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally.  But they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assisted Shirley in removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of the other guests.  He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed his host into the jollified apartment.  He did not overlook the swift glide of Shine’s hand into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval.  Here was a skilful “dip”—­Shirley, however, had taken care that the pickpocket would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat.