"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and all that sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car. Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too, I believe. About thirty-three years old." "Business?" "None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something. That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different from other fellows is usually worth knowing something about." "Right you are! But that sort of a man--you'd hardly think he'd be the victim of--hello, what's this?" Carroll had been going through the dead man's wallet. He rose to his feet, and as he did so Leverage saw that the purse was stuffed with bills of large denomination--a very considerable sum of money. But apparently Carroll was not interested in the money; in his hand he held a railroad-ticket and a small purple Pullman check. "What's the idea?" questioned Leverage. "Brings us back to the woman again," replied Carroll, with peculiar intensity. "How so?" "He was planning to take a trip with her." Leverage glanced at the other man with an admixture of skepticism and wonder. "How did you guess that?" "I didn't guess it. It's almost a sure thing. At least, it is pretty positive that he was not planning to go alone." "Yes? Tell me how you know." Carroll extended his hand. "See here--a ticket for a drawing-room to New York, and _one_ railroad-ticket!" "Yes, but--" "Two railroad-tickets are required for possession of the drawing-room," he said quietly. "Warren had only one. It is clear, then, that the holder of the missing ticket was going to accompany him; so what we have to do now--" "Is to find the other railroad-ticket," finished Leverage dryly. "Which isn't any lead-pipe cinch, I'd say!" CHAPTER IV CARROLL HAS A VISITOR Carroll gazed intently upon the face of the dead man. There was a half quizzical light in the detective's eyes as he spoke, apparently to no one. "I've often thought," he said, "in a case like this, how much simpler things would be if the murdered man could talk." "H-m!" rejoined the practical Leverage. "If he could, he wouldn't be dead." "Perhaps you're right. And following that to a logical conclusion, if he were not dead _we_ wouldn't be particularly interested in what he had to say." "All of which ain't got a heap to do with the fact that your work is cut out for you, Carroll. You're dead sure about that ticket dope, ain't you? I ain't used to traveling in drawing-rooms myself."