"Yes, at five; I will leave word with the doorman to show you in at
once."

West picked up a taxi-cab for the trip, bidding the chauffeur to drive to
a certain section of the city, and then up and down the various streets
until told to stop. He had no idea that his quest would reveal anything
of importance relative to the death of Coolidge, yet no better
suggestion occurred to him and he felt that he must do something. His
conversation with Sexton had greatly strengthened his conviction that
this was a murder, and he had determined to ferret out the truth if
possible. Yet, thus far there was nothing to build upon, no clue, no
motive, no suspicion as to who had perpetrated the deed. He simply faced
a blank wall, in which no entrance was apparent, yet there must be one,
if he was only fortunate enough to stumble upon it. Deep down in his
heart West was conscious that he possessed a motive in this search far
more worthy than mere curiosity. That motive was Natalie Coolidge. He
smiled at the thought, yet confessed it true. In spite of her curt
dismissal, his memory of the girl centred about those earlier hours of
their acquaintance. Something mysterious had occurred to make her change
so quickly, and he was unwilling to condemn her before learning the real
reason. This murder must have some relation to the Coolidge estate; he
could conceive of no other motive for such a cold-blooded affair; and
hence its solving must prove of vital importance to her and her future.
Now, when the verdict of the coroner's jury had been suicide, and when
only he, and the servant Sexton suspected otherwise, it was of the
utmost importance that they endeavour to unravel the crime. For her
sake he could do no less, thus serving and protecting her to the best of
his ability.