up. 'It's Mrs. Parker's,' he said. He wrapped it up hastily, and rang
for a messenger."

"Where did he send it?"

"To Mrs. Parker, I suppose. I didn't hear the address."

We next went over the whole suite of offices, conducted by Mr. Downey.
I noted how carefully Kennedy looked into the directors' room through
the open door from the ladies' department. He stood at such an angle
that had he been the assassin he could scarcely have been seen except
by those sitting immediately next Mr. Parker at the directors' table.
The street windows were directly in front of him, and back of him was
the chair on which the motor-coat had been found.

In Parker's own office we spent some time, as well as in Bruce's.
Kennedy made a search for the note, but finding nothing in either
office, turned out the contents of Bruce's scrap-basket. There didn't
seem to be anything in it to interest him, however, even after he had
pieced several torn bits of scraps together with much difficulty, and
he was about to turn the papers back again, when he noticed something
sticking to the side of the basket. It looked like a mass of wet
paper, and that was precisely what it was.

"That's queer," said Kennedy, picking it loose. Then he wrapped it up
carefully and put it in his pocket. "Inspector, can you lend me one
of your men for a couple of days?" he asked, as we were preparing
to leave. "I shall want to send him out of town to-night, and shall
probably need his services when he gets back."