me all night for some reason."

He stepped toward the foxy little man but:

"Never mind, Gray," interrupted Irvin. "I was to blame. But he was
following my wife, not you. Tell me quickly: Why did she come here?"

Gray raised his hand to his brow with a gesture of bewilderment.

"To consult this man, Kazmah. I actually saw her enter the inner room,
I went to get a cab, and when I returned the door was locked."

"You knocked?"

"Of course. I made no end of a row. But I could get no reply and went
away."

Monte Irvin turned, a pathetic figure, to the Inspector who stood
beside him.

"We may as well proceed, Inspector Whiteleaf," he said. "Mr. Gray's
evidence throws no light on the matter at all."

"Very well, sir," was the reply; "we have the warrant, and have given
the usual notice to whoever may be hiding inside. Burton!"

The Sergeant stepped forward, placed the leather bag on the floor, and
stooping, opened it, revealing a number of burglarious-looking
instruments.