Across town and far up the East Side whizzed the car, over the bridge that leads away from Manhattan Island to the north, and through quiet streets as little known to the average New Yorker as are Hong Kong and Caracas. In front of a frame house it stopped. On a side porch, over which bright roses swarmed like children clambering into a hospitable lap, sat a man with a gray face. He was tall and slender, and his hair, a dingy black, was already showing worn streaks where the color had faded. At Average Jones he gazed with unconcealed surprise. “Ah; it is _you!_” he exclaimed. “_You_,” he smiled, “are the ‘Mercy’ of the advertisement?” “Yes.” “And these gentlemen?” “Are my friends.” “You will come in?” Average Jones examined a nodding rose with an indulgent, almost a paternal, expression. “If you—er—think it—er—safe,” he murmured. “Assuredly.” As if exacting a pledge the young man held out his hand. The older one unhesitatingly grasped it. Average Jones turned the long fingers, which enclosed his, back upward, and glanced at them. “Ah,” he said, and nodded soberly, “so, it is that.” “Yes; it is that,” assented the other. “I perceive that you have communicated with Mr. Craig. How is he?” “Out of danger.” “That is well. A fine and manly youth. I should have sorely regretted it if—” Professor Gehren broke in upon him. “For the peril in which you have involved him, sir, you have to answer to me, his guardian.” The foreigner raised a hand. “He was without family or ties. I told him the danger. He accepted it. Once he was careless—and one is not careless twice in that work. But he was fortunate, too. I, also, was fortunate in that the task was then so far advanced that I could complete it alone. I got him to the hospital at night; no matter how. For his danger and illness I have indemnified him in the sum of ten thousand dollars. Is it enough?” Professor Gehren bowed. “And you, Mr. Jones; are you a detective?” “No; merely a follower of strange trails—by taste.” “Ah. You have set yourself to a dark one. You wish to know how Telfik Bey”—his eyes narrowed and glinted—“came to his reward. Will you enter, gentlemen?” “I know this much,” replied Average Jones as, followed by his friends, he passed through the door which their host held open. “With young Craig as an assistant, you prepared, in the loneliest part of the Hackensack Meadows, some kind of poison which, I believe, can be made with safety only in the open air.” The foreigner smiled and shook his head. “Not with safety, even then,” he said. “But go on.” “You found that your man was coming to New York. Knowing that he would probably put up at the Palatia or the Nederstrom, you reserved rooms for him at both, and took an office across from each. As it was hot weather, you calculated upon his windows being open. You watched for him. When he came you struck him down in his own room with the poison.” “But how?” It was the diplomat who interrupted.