“You know, Mr. Pelt, this murder, of course, upsets me. We don't have many crimes that amount to anything here. My work is mostly small stuff. But this murder sort of gets me. To start with, Warren was the biggest man in this place. I can't for the life of me think of any reason why any one should bump him off.” I made no reply to this, studying the man before me. There was something likable about the chief—something about the humorous smile he had that caused me to warm to him. But his face was puzzled, and it was clear to see he was, as he put it, upset. I could readily understand that the murder of the most important man in his town would cause him to realize the responsibilities resting upon his shoulders. Our eyes suddenly met and, throwing out his hands in a gesture of appeal, he said: “You know, Mr. Pelt, this murder is a little too deep for me. I wish you could see your way clear to help me a bit.” I assured him I would be glad to do anything within my power, but warned him that most of the work upon criminal cases which I had been in had been done by Bartley. He listened with a serious air, and when I finished remarked: “That's all right; but you can help me, I know. Now I have been thinking. You heard what Warren's housekeeper said yesterday about that girl. How she said he ought to be killed.” He paused as if refreshing his memory, then burst forth: “That's a hell of a thing for a nice girl to say. But the thing I have got to do now is to find her. I had two of the cops out, but they can't find any one who has even seen her. Now I was thinking, perhaps you would go with me to see her aunt. She ought to know something about the girl. One of the boys asked the aunt last night if she knew where she was, and she said, ‘No.’ But she might give us some idea. What do you say?” There was an appealing look on his face as he glanced at me, and I was willing to agree that the aunt should be questioned. Upon asking him when he wanted to go, he said: “At once,” and I told him that if he would wait until I found my hat, I would go with him. The hat found, we went down the steps, and he started for the road, saying that his Ford was standing there. I told him I thought we might go in more comfort in my car and, going to the garage, drove it out to the road. The Airedale jumped into the seat as I stopped for the chief, and as there was plenty of room, I let him stay. It took us at least fifteen minutes to reach the house before which we stopped. It was a small white place set far back from the street, with a white fence before it. The path we went up was lined with flowers, and roses climbed over the doorway of the house. It was a very pleasant old lady who answered our ringing of the bell—an old lady whose smile turned into an anxious look as she perceived the chief.