Rodgers stared at it in deep surprise. Bending closer he saw that he must have touched a concealed spring which released the trap-door. It was not a large cavity into which he peered, hardly a foot deep and about six inches square, or so he judged in the fitful glow of the fire. He sat for a moment perfectly still, then drawing out his matchbox, struck a light and held it carefully so that its rays fell directly into the small hole. It was empty except for a medium-sized brass key to which was tied a small tag. Bending nearer, he made out the scrawled lines with some difficulty: This key unlocks the inside drawer of the highboy in the blue room on the fourth floor. A bell reverberating through the silent house caused Rodgers to spring up and look into the hall, in time to see Mandy emerge from behind the door leading to the basement stairs and make her way to the front of the house. A murmur of voices reached Rodgers, then a firm tread sounded down the uncarpeted hall, and parting the porti�res Charles Craige walked into the library. "Hello, Rodgers," he exclaimed in hearty greeting. "Mandy told me that you were here. Have you seen Kitty?" "Not yet." Rodgers shook Craige's hand with vigor. He had grown to like and admire the brilliant lawyer whose many acts of kindness had added to the enjoyment of his visit. Besides, and Rodgers' eyes glowed, was he not Kitty's godfather! "Trust Kitty to keep a man waiting," and Craige smiled as he spoke, then grew grave. "This is a devilish bad business--not to say shocking. Poor Susan--the last person in the world whose death would have been of benefit to any one, and yet she was murdered." "If we are to believe the medical evidence, yes," replied Rodgers. "Poison can be administered with murderous intent, but we must also remember that it can be taken with the intent to commit suicide." "True." Craige chose a seat at some distance from the throne-shaped chair. "But I cannot associate either murder or suicide with Susan. I tell you, Rodgers, Susan had an intense desire to live, and I can conceive of no one wishing for her death sufficiently to face the gallows." "But the fact remains that she either did away with herself or was cold-bloodedly murdered," retorted Rodgers. Craige nodded his head moodily. "If murder, it was cold-blooded, premeditated murder," he agreed. "Hush, here comes Kitty." A door had opened on the gallery and Kitty appeared from her bedroom, stood for a moment hesitating, then hurrying forward she almost ran down the short flight of steps to the library. She paused by the newel post as both men advanced to meet her. "I am so glad you are here," she exclaimed, extending her hands impulsively to each. "It has been so dreadful--alone." Craige laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and patted her gently as he kissed her. "We understand," he said. "Now, what can we do for you?"