asking, "How about the note from Dr. Dixon?"

"Ah, there is the crux of the whole case--that note from Dixon. Let
us see. Dr. Dixon is, if I am informed correctly, of a fine and
aristocratic family, though not wealthy. I believe it has been
established that while he was an interne in a city hospital he became
acquainted with Vera Lytton, after her divorce from that artist
Thurston. Then comes his removal to Danbridge and his meeting and
later his engagement with Miss Willard. On the whole, Walter, judging
from the newspaper pictures, Alma Willard is quite the equal of Vera
Lytton for looks, only of a different style of beauty. Oh, well, we
shall see. Vera decided to spend the spring and summer at Danbridge in
the bungalow of her friend, Mrs. Boncour, the novelist. That's when
things began to happen."

"Yes," I put it, "when you come to know Danbridge as I did after that
summer when you were abroad, you'll understand, too. Everybody knows
everybody else's business. It is the main occupation of a certain set,
and the per-capita output of gossip is a record that would stagger the
census bureau. Still, you can't get away from the note, Craig. There
it is, in Dixon's own handwriting, even if he does deny it: 'This will
cure your headache. Dr. Dixon.' That's a damning piece of evidence."

"Quite right," he agreed hastily; "the note was queer, though, wasn't
is? They found it crumpled up in the jar of ammonia. Oh, there are
lots of problems the newspapers have failed to see the significance
of, let alone trying to follow up."

Our first visit in Danbridge was to the prosecuting attorney, whose
office was not far from the station on the main street. Craig had