“I have not. I will only say, it seems to me quite possible that the killing of Mr. Tracy and the strange business of the flowers and oranges may not be the work of the same hand.” “That has occurred to me, too,” Kee said. “Now, I don’t want to seem insistent, but do tell me your opinion as to the servants.” “I’m not sure.” Ames seemed thoughtful. “I can’t suspect any wrong of Griscom; he’s a faithful old soul, yet he does want his money. Little home on a farm and all that. If he is mixed up in this thing, look out for Bray. She is infatuated with Griscom——” “And he with her?” “That I don’t know. And it may be only my imagination. The cook is too stupid to do anything really wrong. She has no thought save for her kitchen and household. The other servants I don’t know very well. Find out for yourself.” “I shall,” and Kee smiled. “Don’t think I expect you to hire a dog and then do your own barking. As to the secretaries?” Though he said this with a most casual air, I knew Moore was listening intently for the reply. “As to that I can say nothing at all,” Ames returned, gravely. “I wouldn’t say a word that might inculpate an innocent man. Nor do I say that I think them other than innocent. But you must look it all up, you must weigh and sift and decide for yourself.” “Yes,” and Kee nodded his head, “that’s what detectives are for.” “Then go to it. Of course, you are free of this house. Any other place you wish to go, you must get permission for yourself. Try to be as expeditious as possible.” I had warmed to Ames. He seemed more of our own sort than I had thought him. But as he rose, thus tacitly dismissing us, his grumpiness returned, and he made a pettish gesture of annoyance at the whole situation. “Rotten thing to happen!” he exclaimed. “Just now, too, when there were so many crises pending.” “I think I ought to know of those crises, Mr. Ames,” Moore said, decidedly. “Oh, nothing that you don’t already know,” Ames pulled himself up. But I was sure that this time he was not strictly truthful. “Only Mr. Tracy’s approaching marriage and——” “Yes, and?” “Nothing, save some financial matters that are in the lawyers’ hands.” Ames was suave again, and I realized that his little burst of anger had been impulsive and was now regretted. So we left him, and Moore said, as he bowed us out, that we would take a look round Mr. Tracy’s apartments upstairs. “Not just now,” Ames said. “They are about to take the body away.” “That won’t matter. We won’t incommode them,” and grasping my arm, Moore fairly hustled me along with him toward the staircase. We went up to the wing containing the luxurious suite of the dead man. Looking at it more critically than before, I was delighted with its beautiful furnishings and appointments. We paused in the sitting room, for the undertaker’s men were in the bedroom.