The aunt informed us that occasionally the young man came to the house to see Florence and took her to dances. But he seemed to be the only young man with whom the girl had anything to do, for the old lady could not think of any other person the girl had been interested in, and with this we left. I dropped the chief in front of Carter's. Leaving the car in the drive, I went into the house to be greeted by the two men with the news that lunch was ready. As we went into the dining room, they asked me how I felt after my night's escapade, and grinned a little when I told them I was a little sore. Then as we seated ourselves at the table, I told them of the visit of the chief and of the finding of the dagger. They made hardly any comment, though Ranville said he wanted to have a look at the weapon. During the lunch they told me about the funeral. Not only had it been largely attended, but there had never been so many famous men in the village before. From the various colleges there had come the scientists to pay their last respects to the famous man who had worked with them. And then, after mentioning the names of some who had been at the funeral—names known the world over in intellectual circles—Ranville said: “You know, Pelt, we wondered what would be done with the notes of Warren's trip, and how the world had been waiting for his account of his discoveries. We mentioned that the book must be finished. Well, we heard this morning that Niles Patton, who was with him on the trip, will finish the book.” I turned to Carter, asking him if he knew Patton, only to be told that he knew him very well. He was a young assistant professor at Harvard, working under Warren in anthropology, and had been with him in China. And then Carter said that Patton would take up his task at once, and would be at work in the Warren library to-morrow. Lunch was almost over, and we were just drinking our coffee when there came the sound of the door bell and the loud barking of the dog upon the lawn. The housekeeper passed through the room to the door, and in a moment returned. As she stood by Carter's side, he asked: “Who is it, Mrs. Hart?” She shook her head saying: “I don't know, Mr. Carter. The man says he must see you. I never saw him before.” She paused a second, then finished: “It's a Chinaman.” Chapter VIII We Have a Visitor—and—I Take a Ride For a moment no one spoke. As our eyes met, the look we gave each other was a wondering one. I saw a half smile play around Ranville's lips, and then Carter rose and started for the living room, we after him. The same thought must have been in the minds of each of us. Was this man at the door the Chinaman Warren's housekeeper had said came to the door around the time he was killed?