“Poor old duffer!” he said, earnestly, “he was awful fond of life. Now, who would kill him, I’d like to know!” “That’s what we all want to know, Peters,” said Corson. “Come, I’ll go up to his rooms with you, and we can look things over.” Up they went, and the detective looked about the apartment of the dead man with interest. There were but two rooms, a bedroom and bath and a good-sized sitting-room. The furniture was the usual type of hotel appointments and there were so few individual belongings that the place gave small indication of the habits or tastes of its late occupant. “Nothing of a sybarite,” commented Corson, glancing at the few and simple toilet appurtenances. “No,” returned Peters, “but he was accustomed to finer living in his English home. He’s no brag, but I gathered that from things he let drop now and then. But when he was on a business trip, he didn’t seem to care how things were. He was a good dresser, but not much for little comforts or luxuries.” “What about his friendships with ladies?” “Aha, that was his strong point! As a ladies’ man he was there with the goods! He liked ’em all,—from chorus girls to duchesses,—and he knew English ladies of high life, I can tell you.” “But over here he preferred the chorus girls?” “I don’t say he preferred them. He went out a lot to fine homes and hobnobbed with some big people. But he was in his gayest mood when he was getting off for a frolic with the girls.” “As he was last night?” “Yes; he didn’t say much about it, but he did tell me that he was to take a couple of peaches to dinner, and afterwards see them in a Review or something they dance in.” “Can’t you be more definite? Don’t you know what revue? Or the girls’ names?” “No; I’ve no idea. Sir Herbert didn’t mention any names, and of course I didn’t ask him anything.” “Then, I’ll have to go to the Magnifique to get on with this. First, I’ll take a look around here.” But a careful investigation of the late Sir Herbert’s papers and personal effects cast no light on the mystery of his death. There were several photographs of young women, quite likely theatrical people, but none had a signature. However, Corson took these in charge as well as some few notes and letters that seemed significant of friendships with women. “As young Bates is, I believe, the heir to Sir Herbert’s estate, I suppose he’ll take charge of these rooms, but, meanwhile, I’ll lock up as I want to go downstairs again now. You’re out of a job, my man!” “Yes,—why, so I am! It’s the first I’ve realized that!” “Maybe Mr Bates will keep you on.” “Not he! Those young chaps don’t want valets. He doesn’t, anyhow. No, I’ll be looking for a new berth. Oh, it’ll be easy enough found, but I liked Sir Herbert mighty well. He was a queer dick, but a kind and easy-going man to live with.” “And he never chatted with you about his young lady friends?”