"That you let me guide you in every way, and that you take no step without consulting me." "Surely! I am only too glad to bow to your experience and judgment." "Then that settles it; we are partners. Your hand, Mr. Darrel," and novelist and detective shook hands on their agreement. After coming to this conclusion, they settled themselves to discuss the important matter which had brought them together. "Our task is to find out who killed this red-haired man, I suppose?" said Darrel slowly. "Well, not exactly, sir. You see, I know who killed him," replied the detective, nodding. Frank jumped to his feet. "You know who killed him?" he cried in amazement. "Yes. A lady with fair hair." "Are you sure?" "Going by circumstantial evidence, I am. "But are you sure? How do you know? Is she arrested?" The questions poured out of Darrel's mouth until Torry stopped him with a gesture. "She is beyond the power of the law," said he. "She is--dead." "Dead!" cried Darrel, recoiling. "Murdered." "Another crime?" "Precisely; and committed within an hour of the other. Red-hair was murdered, presumably, between the hours of twelve and one o'clock. Fair-hair was stabbed between one and two, also presumably." "It seems all presumption, Mr. Torry." "Naturally," replied the detective, "and must continue so, until the post-mortem examination, which takes place to-morrow at three." "Where was the woman's body found?" "On the Embankment, to be precise," added Torry using his favourite phrase. "The corpse was discovered on the steps of Cleopatra's Needle leading down to the water." "Oh!" said Darrel thoughtfully; "then the presumption is that the assassin tried to throw the body of his victim into the river?" "I think so; but probably he was interrupted while dragging it down the steps and was forced to fly." "Who found the body?" "A tramp who went to wash his hands in the river at six o'clock in the morning. I was busy examining the clothes of the red-haired man, when I heard of this new murder. Learning that it was a woman, I hurried off to view the body." "Had you any particular reason for this haste?" asked Frank. "I had a theory," rejoined Torry reflectively. "Rather far-fetched, to be sure; still a feasible theory. See here!" From his breast the detective produced a narrow strip of black lace much torn, and threw it on the white cloth of the breakfast-table. Darrel looked at it casually, and then glanced inquiringly at Torry. "That lace," explained Torry, "was in the left hand of the red-haired man; therefore I judged that when stabbed by the assassin he put out his hand to ward off the blow and mechanically clutched at the garments of his assailant. Now men do not wear lace, so I naturally concluded that the person who killed him was a woman. You follow me?" Darrel nodded. "Yes, your theory is a natural one. But how did you connect the one woman with the other?"