“You told me not to use this unless it were necessary,” said Barrison very gravely. “It is necessary now, Miss Legaye. I must take it to headquarters at once!” She gave a little cry. “Oh, I was afraid—I was afraid!” she exclaimed. “You think it—it looks bad for her?” “I think,” said Jim Barrison, “that it is practically conclusive evidence!” CHAPTER XXVIII A STRANGE SUMMONS It was barely an hour later, and Lowry and Barrison sat together in the inspector’s office. Before them lay the letter which Kitty Legaye had given Jim, side by side with the threatening letter which had come to the Mirror Theater. The handwriting, as was to be foreseen, was identical. There, too, lay the photograph “swiped” by the reporter Lucas, showing the two young faces, so easily recognized now as the likenesses of Rita Blankley and Kitty. There was the pistol with its odd, non-committal initial, which had been identified as Rita’s. A telegram was handed to Lowry, and, after reading it, he passed it to Jim. It was signed with an initial only, obviously one of the inspector’s regular men, and came from Indianapolis. It read: Got your friends. All coming back on next train. G. “The Blankleys?” asked Barrison. “Sure. They’ll be here to-morrow, and then I guess the case’ll be over.” Just as Barrison was leaving the office, the inspector said casually: “By the bye, Jim—if you want to take a look at the place where the Blankleys lived, here’s the address on a card. I’d like you to go round there and have a look. You’re the sort of fellow who gets on with people better than the regular officers. Will you?” “Rather!” Jim went off with his card, wondering just what the inspector meant. “The sort of fellow who gets on with people!” That sounded as though there were people on the premises whom the inspector had failed to pump satisfactorily. He decided to “take a look” without delay. It turned out to be quite the usual type of furnished rooming house, kept by a faded, whining woman, with hair and skin all the same color. It seemed that she had a boy—thirteen he was, though he looked younger. He went to school mostly, but he was a good deal more useful when he stayed away. “And what was the good of schooling to the likes of him?” said she. Barrison refrained from shaking her till her teeth rattled, and soothingly extracted the rest. Freddy, who appeared to be a sharp youngster from what she said, could always turn a pretty penny by acting as messenger boy for the “ladies and gents” in the house. Some of them were actors; more of them were not. It was fairly evident that the place was largely patronized by denizens of the shady side of society. Before Jim was done with the woman, he had ascertained that Freddy had more than once acted as messenger for the Blankleys, for whom, by the bye, she had a sincere respect. She said they were “always refined in their ways,” and paid cash.