"Yes, Argot." And I told him all that I had lately discovered about the couple, and of their separate visits to me. Neither did I fail to mention the strange apparition of the night before, which had caused me so much uneasiness. He seemed much impressed, and stared gravely before him for some minutes. "You are really not at all sure that the white face belonged to Argot, are you?" "No," I acknowledged. "Well, Doctor," he continued, after a slight pause, "it's a queer thing that, just as you have succeeded in persuading me that a hat-pin is hardly a masculine weapon, and that, therefore, I ought to look for a murderess, and not a murderer, you, on the other hand, should have come to the conclusion that a man is the perpetrator of this crime." "Ah! but you see, Mr. Merritt, I don't believe the victim was killed by a hat-pin. I think he was pierced through the heart by a skewer, which, in a kitchen, Argot would have found under his hand." "Well, Doctor, you may be right. Live and learn, I always say. I shall at once call on the Argots, and have a look at this hat." "Don't you think you had better have him arrested, first, and question him afterwards? I am convinced he is insane, and likely to become violent at any moment; we don't want any more murders, you know." "That is all very well, Doctor; but I can't have the fellow arrested till I have something to go on. The hat you saw may not be the one we want; or, again, Argot may have found it." "Well, if you insist on bearding him, let me go with you." "Certainly not. You are young, and--well, not uncalculated to arouse his marital jealousy, while I," patting his portly person, "am not likely to cause him any such anxieties. Even age and fat have their uses, sometimes." "But he may try to cut your throat," I objected. "One of my men will be just outside, and will probably get to me before he has quite finished me." He had risen, and stood with his hand on the door-knob. "Look here, Doctor, I'd like to bet you that Argot is innocent, and that a woman, and a mighty pretty woman, too, is the guilty party." "All right, Mr. Merritt; I'll take you. I bet you fifty dollars that a man committed this crime." "Done!" exclaimed the detective, and, pulling out his pocket-book, he recorded the bet with great care. He looked at me for a moment longer with one of those quiet enigmatic smiles of his, and departed. I watched him cross the street and enter the back door of the Rosemere. A moment afterwards a shabby-looking man came slouching along and stopped just outside, apparently absorbed in watching something in the gutter. The detective remained only a minute or so in the building, and when he came out he gave me a slight nod, which I interpreted as a sign that Argot was not at home. He took not the slightest notice of the tramp, and, turning north, trotted briskly up town.