The office was attractively furnished. A costly Persian rug covered the floor. Against one of the walls stood an expensive roll-top desk. On a stand near by were two typewriters. On a table in the middle of the office, covered with books and magazines, was a huge cut-glass jar, literally overflowing with magnificent roses. Nick instantly noticed these costly furnishings, which were much too expensive for one who works for a living, and he drew a correct conclusion--that Kate Crandall had wealthy admirers, and that she had no scruples over accepting valuable tokens of their affection. She was seated in an armchair near one of the lace-draped windows, absorbed in a magazine story when the detective entered. She was a pronounced brunette, strikingly handsome, with regular features, a rich velvety complexion, languorous dark eyes, and full red lips, a face evincing a sensuous nature and a fiery temper. Her fine figure was a bit showily clad. Several costly diamonds adorned her shapely hands. One high-heeled French shoe and a bit of silk hosiery protruded from below her stylish blue skirt. “Fly and fancy is right,” thought Nick, recalling Patsy’s prediction. Looking up when he entered, Kate Crandall received him with a smile and laid aside her magazine. “Good afternoon, sir,” she said, greeting him agreeably. “Take a seat.” “You are Miss Crandall?” returned Nick inquiringly. “Yes, sir,” said Kate, bowing. “My name is Henderson,” said Nick, taking a chair. “Do I find you busy just now?” “No, indeed, not at present. What can I do for you?” “Not very much just now, Miss Crandall, but considerable later, providing your terms are satisfactory and my work agreeable to you,” Nick said suavely. “I work entirely on a space basis.” “That will suit me.” “What is the character of the work, Mr. Henderson?” “I am a writer of photo dramas for a leading New York moving-picture concern,” Nick glibly informed her. “I have a long contract with the firm and require the help of a competent stenographer to prepare my scenarios. The work is not difficult and will pay you well.” “I will undertake it,” said Kate, nodding her finely poised head. “I can discontinue it if found distasteful.” “Certainly.” “When will you want me to begin?” “Probably on Monday, when I will show you how I wish the work done and discuss other details with you.” “That will be agreeable to me, Mr. Henderson,” said Kate unsuspiciously. Nick had detected, up to that time, nothing beyond the points mentioned, but he had hit upon a ruse for evoking a self-betrayal from the woman, as may be inferred from his artful pretensions. “I will see you here Monday morning, then,” said he, apparently about to go. But he immediately added, as if hit with an idea: “Before leaving, by the way, I will employ you to write a letter for me to my firm, whom I wish to inform of my intentions. Will you take it in shorthand, or----”