Washington society, or such portions of it as had known Miss Susan Baird in her lifetime, was agog over the latest development in the Baird tragedy; while Washingtonians personally unacquainted with the spinster were equally interested from motives of curiosity in the filing of her will. And all Washington, figuratively speaking, rubbed its eyes and read the newspapers assiduously, without, however, gaining much satisfaction. News from Police Headquarters was scant, and reporters resorted to theories in place of facts in trying to solve the murder of the "Miser of Rose Hill." Miss Susan Baird, in death, had emerged from the obscurity which had shrouded her in life. Inspector Mitchell leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on the highly polished mahogany table-top and contemplated Mrs. Parsons with speculative interest. Three quarters of an hour before he had received a telephone message requesting him to call upon her on, as her servant had stated, urgent business. He had spent ten minutes in conversation with Mrs. Parsons and had not received the faintest inkling as to why she wished to see him. "May I ask, Madam," he began with direct bluntness, "what it is that you wish to see me about?" Mrs. Parsons looked across the "den" to make sure that the door was closed. Satisfied on that point, she turned her attention to the inspector. "I am anxious to have your bureau undertake a certain investigation for me," she said. "I will gladly meet all expenses, no matter how large they may be." "Just a moment," broke in Mitchell. "Do you mean a private investigation?" "Yes, I suppose so," somewhat doubtfully. "You might term it that. I want certain information about a--a person's past career--" She stopped as Mitchell shook his head. "We are public officials, Madam, employed by the District Government," he explained. "What you require is a private detective." "But are they not untrustworthy?" she questioned. "I was told they very often sold you out to the person you wished watched." "There are crooks in all trades, Madam," replied Mitchell. "There are also honest men. You are not obliged to pick a crooked detective to work for you." "That is just it-- Can you recommend a trustworthy person to--to--" "To what, Madam?" as she came to a stammering halt. "To learn certain facts in a person's life." She plucked nervously at her handkerchief as she waited for his answer. "You will have to be more explicit, Madam," he said gravely. "Whose past life do you wish investigated and why?" Mrs. Parsons paused in indecision; then with an air of perfect candor addressed the impatient inspector. "Of course you will respect my confidence," she began. Mitchell nodded. "There is a certain man in Washington who has gained a welcome in the most exclusive homes," she paused. "I believe him to be an adventurer." "Come, Mrs. Parsons, that is not being very explicit," remonstrated Mitchell. "To whom are you alluding?"