“You missed a curious little sociable party,” she assured him.  “They tried to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose—­no results on either side.  But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, which disturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned.”

Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with the explanation of Reginald’s disturbance.  It was certain now that the leader of the assassins had something to cause uneasiness, —­enough to take his mind off the campaign of murder and blackmail.

“But he will try to get you out of the way,” was her anxious answer.  “You are multiplying needless dangers.  Why don’t you have him arrested now—­the phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not?  The diary will show his career, and everything seems complete in the case.”

Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying.

“It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps.  I am foolish enough to believe that I can trap him on some crime which will give him the complete punishment he deserves without dragging in the names of these unfortunate old society men.  All our trouble would be for nothing, just now, if the story came out.  The phonograph records helped me—­but I prefer to keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest and selfishness.  Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must be clues which will send him to the electric chair on former crimes:  Warren is an artist who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on this masterpiece.  He is not a beginner.  So, I must ransack his apartment.”

“That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks.”

“We shall see.  Meanwhile, I’ll spin the yarn of the last thirty-six hours.  I’m sure your curiosity is whetted:  my own is by no means satisfied.”

So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made.  Helene brought forth a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from the diary, proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up from the hotel office.

“There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to an extent.  I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case in Paris, during August of last year.  What can you do to investigate that lead?”

Shirley jotted down the name, and answered:  “A cable to the prefecture of Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details.  That should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-four hours.  I am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate a certain yacht which is moored in the East River.  That yacht is there for a purpose—­you remember his reference to the payment of supplies for a two-month cruise.  My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I can capture him just at the crucial moment when he thinks he is successful in his escape from pursuit.”

“That is the childishness of the masculine mind,” retorted Helene.  “You say we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in the small things.  I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, rather than a chase from behind!”