In these circumstances there was no reason for refusal. Harkness was a man of good reputation. Because of the other apparently mythical Harkness, he had been investigated more thoroughly than was usually deemed necessary, and his references had proved to be good. The inquiries had been made cautiously and circumspectly, to avoid giving offense, and the replies had been generally satisfactory. Nevertheless, Murray had another talk with him before delivering the policy. Harkness told whom and when he married, and the truthfulness of this statement was capable of easy verification. His wife, he said, had been away for some time, but was now returning. “We shall take a small flat again,” he explained. “I have already selected one in Englewood—on Sixty-fourth Street. A fellow can get more for his money out there than he can nearer the city.” Then Harkness got his policy, and a little later he notified the company that he had moved to the Sixty-fourth Street flat. Murray puzzled his head a little over the mysterious Harkness, and once took the trouble to learn that the Harkness he had insured was still employed by the wholesale grocery firm. Then other matters claimed his attention, and the Harkness case was forgotten. There seemed to be no doubt that it was a good risk, even if there was a mystery back of it somewhere. It was six months later that he was notified of the sudden death at the Sixty-fourth Street flat of Elmer Harkness, who had a policy in his company. Instantly the details of the case, and his misgivings at the time, returned to him. Yet the proof of death, signed by a reputable and well-known physician, was flawless. A latent heart trouble had developed suddenly, and Harkness had died within forty-eight hours after he was stricken. The physician who had attended him never had been called for Harkness before, but he had been at the flat a number of times to prescribe for the trifling ailments of Mrs. Harkness, and he had become well acquainted with the husband. They had moved into the neighborhood about six months before. “It all fits in with what we know of the case,” commented Murray, “except the heart trouble. That sounds like the mysterious Harkness. Could you have possibly made any mistake in your examination, Doctor?” “Certainly I could,” admitted the company’s physician ruefully. “None of us is infallible, but I’ll swear there were no indications of any heart trouble when I examined him. Still, the heart is a mighty deceptive organ. There may be trouble without any indications of it and there may be indications without any trouble. I once knew of a man whose heart seemed to skip a beat once in so often, but the best of medical talent was unable to discover the cause of it, and the man lived to a good old age. I don’t claim infallibility, but I never examined a man who seemed freer from any indications of heart trouble.” “I wonder,” said Murray thoughtfully, “if Harkness’ employer has heard of his death.”