Corson was anxious for further talk with the members of the Prall household, but they had not made appearance yet and he hesitated to call them. He decided to run down to the Magnifique at once, when he received unexpected help from the telephone operator, Julie Baxter. “Sir Herbert has a lot of telephone calls from ladies,” she said, with a meaning glance. “Is that so? Did he have any yesterday?” “Yes, he did. About five o’clock, a skirt called him up and they had a merry confab.” “Who was she?” “Dunno; but he called her ‘Babe.’” “Not very definite! Most girls get called that! What did she say?” “How should I know that?” and Julie’s big eyes stared haughtily at him. “By the not unheard of method of using your ears. What did she say?” Really eager to tell, Julie admitted that she listened in, and that an appointment was made for dinner at the Magnifique. Further details she could not supply. Whereupon Corson carried out his plan of going to the big hotel at once. He hunted down the head waiter of the grill room of the night before, and, having found him asleep in his room, waked him up and proceeded to interrogate him. “You bet Sir Herbert Binney was here,” the man declared, when he got himself fully awake; “he had two of the prettiest little squabs I ever saw, along, and they had a jolly dinner.” “And then?” “Then they all went off to the theater, and after the show he brought them back, also two more,—four of ’em in all,—and they had supper.” “All amicable?” “Oh, yes,—that is, at first. Later on, the girls got jealous of each other, and—well, the old chap’s a softy, you know, and they pretty much cleaned him out.” “Just what do you mean?” “Well, he made them presents, or promised them presents,—he’s terribly rich,—and each of those girls was afraid somebody else would get more than she did. So, they squabbled quite a lot.” “Sir Herbert was good natured?” “Yep; he just laughed and let ’em fight it out among themselves.” “Now, look here, did any of those four girls get angry enough to wish Sir Herbert any harm?” “Did they? Why, I heard Babe Russell say she was going to kill him, and Viola Mersereau, she said, if she was sure it would never be discovered, she’d shoot him herself.” “Are you sure of these things? Because—somebody did kill Sir Herbert Binney about two o’clock this morning.” “What! Who did it?” “We don’t know, but we’ve reason to suspect women.”