Miss Lane had the grace to blush, through her rouge, but she declared: “He doesn’t want to,” and added, “but he ought to. He has made love to me, and he once asked me to marry him. But since then he has said he didn’t mean it. I don’t suppose I’ve enough evidence for a breach of promise suit, but—oh, well,” and she tossed her pretty head, “I’ve not the least doubt that if Miss Wheeler were out of the question—say, safely married to Mr. Allen, I’d have no trouble in whistling my Curtie back.” “I’ll bet you wouldn’t!” Fibsy looked at her admiringly. “If I were only a few years older——” “Hush, Terence,” said Fleming Stone, “don’t talk nonsense.” Immediately Fibsy’s face became serious and he turned his attention away from the fascinating Genevieve. “But all this is aside the question of the murderer, Mr. Stone,” said Allen. “How are you progressing with that investigation?” “Better than I’ve disclosed as yet,” Stone returned, speaking slowly; “recent developments have been helpful, and I hope to be ready soon to give a report.” “You expect Mr. Appleby down?” “Yes; to-night or to-morrow. By that time I hope to be ready to make an arrest.” “Maida!” cried Jeffrey, the word seeming wrung from him against his will. “Forgive me, if I do not reply,” said Stone, with an earnest glance at the questioner. “But I’d like to talk to Miss Wheeler. Will you go for her, Mr. Allen?” “I’d—I’d rather not—you see——” “Yes, I see,” said Stone, kindly. “You go, Fibs.” “I’ll go,” offered Genevieve, with the result that she and McGuire flew out of the room at the same time. “All right, Beauteous One, we’ll both go,” Fibsy said, as they went along the hall side by side. “Where is the lady?” “Donno; but we’ll find her. I say, Terence, come down on the veranda just a minute, first.” Leading him to a far corner, where there was no danger of eavesdroppers, Genevieve made another attempt to gain an ally for her own cause. “I say,” she began, “you have a lot of influence with your Mr. Stone, don’t you?” “Oh, heaps!” and Fibsy’s sweeping gesture indicated a wide expanse of imagination, at least. “No fooling; I know you have. Now, you use that influence for me and I’ll do something for you.” “What’ll you do?” “I don’t know; nothing particular. But, I mean if, at any time I can help you in any way—I’ve influence, too, with big men in the financial and business world. I haven’t always worked for the Applebys, and wherever I’ve been I’ve made friends that I can count on.” “Oh, you mean a tip on the stock market or something of that sort?” “Yes, or a position in a big, worth-while office. You’re not always going to be a detective’s apprentice, are you?” “You bet I am! Watcha talking about? Me leave F. Stone! Not on your fleeting existence! But, never mind that part of the argument, I’ll remember your offer, and some day, when I have a million dollars to invest, I’ll ask your advice where to lose it. But, now, you tell me what you want.”