about."

"Well," he went on, throwing himself into his chair again, "what's
to be done? Do you honestly think that he had those things on him when he
came here last night? You do? Very well, then, he's been murdered by some
devil or devils who's got 'em! But how? And who are they--or who's
he--or--good Lord! it might be who's she?"

"Poisoned," said Fullaway. "That's my answer to your question of--how? As
to your other question--is there no clue to anything? you forget--I don't
know any details. I only know that he was found dead. Under what
circumstances?"

Allerdyke pulled his chair nearer to his visitor.

"I'd forgotten," he said. "I'll tell you the lot. See if you can make
aught out of it--they always say you Yankees have sharp brains. Try to
see a bit of daylight! So far it licks me."

He gave the American a brief yet full account of all that had happened
since his receipt of James Allerdyke's wireless message. And Fullaway
listened in silence, taking everything in, making no interruption, and at
the end he spoke quietly and with decision.

"We must find that woman--Miss Celia Lennard--and at once," he said.
"That's absolutely necessary."

"Just so," agreed Allerdyke. "But look here--I've been thinking that
over. Is it very likely that a woman who'd stolen two hundred and fifty
thousand pounds' worth of stuff from an hotel would wire back to its