"Nay, nay, Pauline," and the small, pointed chin was raised a bit. "Not so, but far otherwise." "Then why do you think the world is evil?" "Ah, sir, when one spends one's life between a Moving Picture Studio and a popular artist's studio, one learns much that one had better left unlearnt." The child face suddenly looked ages old, and then, as suddenly broke into a gay smile: "Don't ask me these things," she said, "ask Penny Wise. I'm only his Pound Foolish." "You'll put on another foolish pound if you eat any more of that dessert," growled Wise, scowling at her. "All right, I won't," and the slender little fingers laid down the teaspoon Zizi was using. Then, in an audible aside, she added, "Hester will give me more, later," and chuckled like a naughty child. The next morning Pennington Wise set about his work in earnest. "I'm going to East Dryden," he announced. "I want to interview the doctors, also Mr. Stebbins. I don't mind saying frankly, this is the deepest mystery I have ever encountered. If any of you here can help me, I beg you will do so, for the case looks well-nigh hopeless. Ah, there, Zizi." The girl appeared, ready to go with Wise in the motor car. She wore a small black hat with an oriole's wing in it, and a full-draped black cape, whose flutterings disclosed an orange-coloured lining. Inconspicuous, save when the cape's lining showed, Zizi looked distinguished and smartly costumed. A small black veil, delicately adjusted, clouded her sharp little features, and she sprang into the car without help, and nestled into a corner of the tonneau. Only a chauffeur accompanied them, and he could not hear the conversation carried on in low tones. "What about it, Ziz?" murmured Wise, as they passed the aspen grove and the black lake. "Awful doings," she returned, merely breathing the words. "The Eve girl has a secret, too." "Too?" "Yes, she isn't the criminal, you know." "I don't know." "Well, you will know. She's a queer mechanism, but she never killed anybody." "Sure, Zizi?" "Sure, oh, Wise Guy. Now, who did do it?" "Well, who did?" "We don't know yet, and we mustn't theorize without data, you know." "Rats! I always theorize without data. And I've never failed to corral the data." "You're a deuce of a deducer, you are!" "And you're a She Sherlock, I suppose! Well, oh, Mine of Wisdom, go ahead. Spill it to me." "Can't now. I've lost my place! But, after a few more interviews with some few more interested parties, I may, perhaps, possibly, maybe,--oh, Penny, look back at the house from here! Did you _ever_ see such a weird, wild spook-pit!" Black Aspens did indeed look repellent. No one was in sight, and the grove of black, waving trees, mirrored in the deep black shadows of the lake gave it all a doomed effect that the dull, leaden sky intensified.