Tilly Lancey, in fact, as she was familiarly known, enjoyed friendly relations with a small legion of fast society chaps and men about town, and was equally distinguished for her striking beauty, her fine figure, her costly jewels, and beautiful gowns. That she had met her death at the hands of a man of Arthur Gordon’s type seemed utterly incredible. “Tilly Lancey, eh?” Chick muttered audibly. “So she has come to the end of her career. It has been hinted by some of the mud-slinging stump speakers, Nick, that Madison has been quite as friendly with Miss Lancey as the law allows, in view of the fact that he has a wife and family.” “Still another reason, perhaps, why my suggestion has feet to stand on,” Nick replied. “There is nothing in speculating upon it, however, before we have learned just what has been done and what evidence has been found. Let her go lively, Danny.” There was little occasion for the last. Danny then was running nearly at top speed up Fifth Avenue, guiding the flying car with the eye and hands of an expert. Policemen on the crossings stared amazedly till they caught a glimpse at the face of the famous detective, and, when instantly recognized, they made no attempt to stop him. They knew that only an emergency case would take him at that high speed through the most fashionable New York thoroughfare. Less than ten minutes had passed when Danny swerved to the curbing near the home of Miss Matilda Lancey. A taxicab was standing directly in front of the house. It was a brownstone dwelling occupying a corner lot, one of a block of five, the house having three flats accessible through a single front door and entrance hall. A policeman was standing on the steps. He was talking with a slender man in a plaid business suit, a man with an intellectual, or professional type of countenance, with wavy hair, a pointed beard, and gold-bowed spectacles. He had a wad of “copy paper” and pencil in his hand, and he turned quickly when Nick and Chick ascended the steps, asking politely: “Do you object to my going in with you, Mr. Carter? I am a city news man. I will be very discreet as to the story I turn in, or will be governed entirely by your wishes. I happened to be passing and saw Officer Gilroy on the steps. He told me a murder has been committed.” “How did you happen to recognize me?” Nick inquired, pausing briefly and eying the man a bit sharply. “I did not recognize you,” smiled the other. “Gilroy mentioned your name when your car stopped at the curbing.” “Well, I don’t know myself just what has been done here,” said Nick. “I prefer not to grant your request immediately. You may wait here until I have looked things over, if you like, and if I then have anything to give you for publication, I will inform you.” “Very well, sir. Thank you for that.” “Which flat, Gilroy?”