"That sounds good, Jim. Can't you tell me anything?" Prale asked, sitting forward on his chair. "The barber and the clothing merchant have fixed up a part of your alibi, Sid, as perhaps Murk has told you. That is the first point. It makes it look impossible for you to have slain Rufus Shepley, and I think Lawyer Coadley could get the charge against you dismissed on that alone." "But I want to be entirely cleared." "Exactly. You don't want to leave the slightest doubt in the mind of a single person. There is but one way to clear you absolutely, Sid. We've got to show conclusively that you could not have killed Shepley, and the best way to do that is to find the person who did." "I understand, Jim." "There seems to be some sort of a mysterious alliance against you, Sid. You say that you can't understand why you should have enemies that hate you so, and I know you're telling the truth. Whether that business has anything to do with the murder, or not, I am not prepared to say now. But we want to find out about this enemy business, too, don't we?" "Certainly," Prale said. "I followed Kate Gilbert. I know where she lives. She does not belong to a rich family and does not live in splendor. But she wears expensive gowns and has plenty of spending money, and has mysterious dealings with a distinguished-looking man. Her father is mixed up in it in some way, too. I went through their apartment, Sid. Somebody in that apartment wrote the anonymous notes you received." "What?" Prale gasped. "I found a tablet of the same sort of paper, and scraps of writing in the wastebasket that were in the same hand. Think, Sid! On the ship----" "By George!" Prale exclaimed. "She could have slipped into my stateroom and pinned that note to my pillow, and she could have stuck the second one on my suit case as I walked past her on the deck." "And could have sent the others," Farland added. "But, why?" Prale demanded. "I never saw the woman until I met her at a social affair in Honduras. What could she or any of her people have against me?" "Perhaps it was the maid," Farland said. "She could have done it, of course, the same as Kate Gilbert," Prale said. "But the same difficulty holds good--why? Kate Gilbert did seem to avoid me, and I caught her big maid glaring at me once or twice as if she hated the sight of me. But why on earth----" Farland cleared his throat. "Here is another thought for you to digest," he said. "This Kate Gilbert knows your cousin, George Lerton." Sidney Prale suddenly sat up straight in his chair again, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Doesn't that open up possibilities?" Jim Farland asked him. "The woman seems to be working against you for some reason, and we know that George Lerton lied about meeting you on Fifth Avenue that night. It appears that he is working against you, too, for some mysterious motive."