Forrester had lost his interest in dancing of late, so he held himself in the background until it was time to claim his first dance with Mary Sturtevant. Then he hunted for her everywhere. She was not to be found, and even after the orchestra had begun to play, she did not appear. He saw nothing further of her until time for his second dance, when he suddenly became aware that she was standing by his side. "You are like the beautiful young woman that the magician passes through his cabinet," exclaimed Forrester. "Do I appear and disappear so mysteriously as all that?" she laughed, but offered no apology nor explanation. Then the music began and they swept out on the floor. Just before the dance ended Forrester noted a stir near the conservatory doors. Though the doors were closed, several people were grouped about them, apparently looking through the glass at something going on within the conservatory. When the music stopped Forrester suggested that they stroll in this direction and ascertain what was taking place. Before they reached the conservatory doors, however, Mr. Melville, their host, appeared at Forrester’s side. The man’s face was pale and drawn. "Forrester," said Mr. Melville in a low voice, "we have had an accident in the conservatory. I would appreciate your help. Come around by way of the hall—the doors from this room have been locked." Mr. Melville turned away toward the hall and Forrester excused himself to Mary Sturtevant. He noticed that her face also had paled. "I think I know what has happened," she said. "Please let me go with you." "It might not be agreeable to Mr. Melville," objected Forrester. "Robert," she whispered, impressively, "you are safe only when I am with you!" Forrester stared at her in astonishment. There was a beseeching look in her eyes, however, and she held her hands out to him with a pleading gesture which he could not resist. "Come," he said, briefly, and taking her arm led her across the room and around through the hall into the conservatory. Near its center, hidden from prying eyes among palms and flowering plants, they found Mr. Melville’s son stretched out on a bench. Near by stood the father, while a gray-haired man leaned over the young man. The gray-haired man stood erect at the sound of Forrester’s and the girl’s approach. Mr. Melville was apparently too much distressed to notice Mary Sturtevant’s unbidden presence. He turned to Forrester, informing him simply that the gray-haired man was a doctor. The deathly pallor on the young man’s face told the story. Forrester, however, inquired: "Dead?" "Yes," replied the doctor. "Asphyxiated!" "This is the work of the ’Friends of the Poor,’ Forrester," asserted Mr. Melville. "I knew that you were involved and had been carrying on some investigations in the matter. It occurred to me that there might be some clues here of value to you. This is the story: