“Dizziness,” he answered laconically. “A rather interesting case,” the doctor looked at him speculatively. “Fear, eh? Morbid and illogical fear. Hm. Nothing simpler. Phobias are easy to trace. You fainted. Fainting is an escape from overwhelming impulses that are repugnant to the conscious mind. You had an impulse....” De Medici smiled. “He prowls around like a blind weasel,” he mused as the scientist talked. “Yes. Obvious. Why not discuss it?” Dr. Lytton was saying. “Such things must be considered impersonally. Your impulse was to murder me, Julien. Darkness, candles, long velvet curtains—these things fascinate you because they are symbols of desires that hide in you.” De Medici shrugged his shoulders. “Here we are,” he spoke as the cab stopped before a lighted building. They entered the police station arm in arm. De Medici’s legs still felt weak. A man in police uniform conducted them to Lieutenant Norton’s office. The lieutenant rose to greet them. De Medici noted the look of triumph which kindled his eyes. “Well, come right in,” cried the detective exuberantly. “Glad to see you, Mr. De Medici.” He nodded somewhat less enthusiastically at the stocky figure of Dr. Lytton. “How d’you do, doctor?” he added. De Medici sat down beside the lieutenant’s desk. “So you’ve found the murderer?” he asked quietly. “In which case you must have changed your mind about Mr. Ballau’s suicide.” “Sit down, sit down, doctor,” Norton beamed, “and I’ll apologize for a lot of things. Have a cigar?” The visitors declined. Dr. Lytton, regarding the red-faced detective, mused silently. “He’s stumbled on something. An intelligent man, but clumsy and superficial,” he was thinking. Norton seemed to expand in his chair. His face glowed with delight as he began to talk. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I owe you my first apology for pretending to you I thought Victor Ballau had killed himself. I was absolutely convinced it was a murder on the night we found the body. I had the impression of suicide for a few minutes. But before ten minutes had passed investigation showed me that there were a number of things not to be explained by the suicide theory. Well, gentlemen, realizing that the murder was an intricate one and that it would take a great deal of care to unravel the mystery, I adopted the suicide theory as a ruse and instructed my force to take a similar attitude. We harped on this theory at the inquest. You see, it was my purpose to throw the criminal off the track and make the capture a bit easier.” “Marvelous,” murmured De Medici. The lieutenant’s naïveté had suddenly amused him. “A bewildering deception. And you got him.” Norton grinned at the man’s banter. “Her,” he corrected. “Miss Florence Ballau.” Dr. Lytton nodded. “Where is she?” he inquired. “Under lock and key,” said Norton. “We arrested her yesterday morning.” “Where?” whispered De Medici. “In New York,” Norton answered.