“That’s the way I see it, but I can’t be sure till I see the paper. There are many motives for murder, but they can all be classed as affairs of the heart, the mind or the purse. The first class takes in all love interests; the second, business deals, and the third, robbery. The last, I understand, we may eliminate; the second seems to be knocked out by that message, and we come back to some affair of the heart, which may not be love, but jealousy, revenge or a sudden, impulsive quarrel. To look for the women is not an easy task, but it is a help to be started in the right direction.” And so, Penny Wise established himself in the comfortable rooms lately occupied by the victim of the crime he was to investigate, and Zizi, his capable and picturesque assistant, found her quarters in the domain of the housekeeper. Mrs Macey was a shrewd, capable woman, or she would not have been housekeeper at The Campanile. She looked in cold disdain at the glowing little face of the girl who unceremoniously invaded her room, and stared with increasing interest as the visitor talked. “You see,” Zizi said, nodding her correctly hatted little head, “I’ve just simply got to be taken in somewhere in the house, and it might as well be here. I’m too young to have an apartment by myself, and I’ll promise you won’t regret any ‘small kindnesses’ you may show me. In fact, Mr Pennington Wise, my sponsor in baptism, is the greatest rememberer of small kindnesses you ever saw!” “My goodness!” remarked Mrs Macey, dazzled by the girl’s beauty and animation, and bewildered by her insistent manner. “Yep,” sauced Zizi, with her irresistible smile, “it’s your goodness that’ll turn the trick. I’ll confide to you that I’m here on business, most important secret business, and if your goodness pans out well and you put me up properly, you’ll be what is known as handsomely rewarded. So, which is my room?” The girl whirled through a doorway and spied a neat little bedroom. “This’ll do,” she said, and setting down her small handbag proceeded to push things around on the dresser and fling her gloves and veil into a drawer, then with what was indubitably a farewell smile, she gently pushed Mrs Macey out, and closed the door after her, pausing only to say, “You’ve good horse sense,—use it.” “So far, so good,” commented Zizi, to her pretty reflection in the mirror. “That woman’s a joy. Easily managed, but full of initiative. Just the sort I like.” She flew around, adjusting the appointments to suit her taste; she telephoned downstairs for her further luggage to be sent up, and soon she was as fully established in the room as if she had been there weeks. “And now,” she spoke finally to the pretty girl in her mirror, “I shall sally forth, as they call it, and see what’s what in The Campanile.”