“Then kindly give me your undivided attention for a moment,” the Owl said earnestly, at the same time peering into my eyes with that air of mystery which so puzzled me. “Perhaps it will not surprise you to know that in this matter of the death of Reginald Thorne there are several interests at stake, and the most searching secret inquiries have been made on behalf of the young man’s friends by detectives sent from London and from New York. These inquiries have established one or two curious facts, but so far from elucidating the mystery, they have only tended to render it more inscrutable. As I have already said, the person actually responsible for the crime is no ordinary murderer, and notwithstanding the fact that some of the shrewdest and most experienced detectives have been at work, they can discover nothing. You follow me?” “Perfectly.” “Then I will proceed further. Has it ever occurred to you that you might, if you so desired, become the wife of old Benjamin Keppel?” “I really don’t see what that has to do with the matter under discussion,” I said with quick indignation. “Then you admit that old Mr. Keppel is among your admirers?” “I admit nothing,” I responded. “I see no reason why you, a perfect stranger, should intrude upon my private affairs in this manner.” “The intrusion is for your own safety,” he answered ambiguously. “And what need I fear, pray? You spoke of some extraordinary warning, I believe.” “True, I wish to warn you,” said the man in strange disguise. “I came here to-night at considerable risk to do so.” I hesitated. Then after a few moments’ reflection I resolved upon making a bold shot. “Those who speak of risk are invariably in fear,” I said. “Your words betray that you have some connection with the crime.” I watched him narrowly, and saw him start perceptibly. Then I congratulated myself upon my shrewdness, and determined to fence with him further and endeavor to make him commit himself. I rather prided myself upon smart repartee, and many had told me that at times I shone as a brilliant conversationalist. “Ah,” he said hastily, “I think you mistake me, Miss Rosselli. I am acting in your interests entirely.” “If so, then surely you may give me your name, and tell me who you are.” “I prefer to remain unknown,” he replied. “Because you fear exposure.” “I fear no exposure,” he protested. “I came here to speak with you secretly to-night because had I called openly at your hotel my visit would have aroused suspicion, and most probably have had the effect of thwarting the plans of those who are endeavoring to solve the enigma.” “But you give me no proof whatever of your bona-fides,” I declared. “Simply because I am unable. I merely come to give you warning.” “Of what?” “Of the folly of flirtation.” I sprang to my feet indignantly. “You insult me!” I cried. “I will bear it no longer. Please let me pass!”