spectacular, is Monroe, and he wants to make the whole affair as
important as possible."

"But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it
is very absurd for me to take up the case at all."

"Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet.
And, too, a big case like this ought to have a city detective on
it. Even if you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it
will prove to the public mind that it must be so."

"Tell me then, who is your suspect?"

"Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with an
unprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help arriving at the
inevitable conclusion."

We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap,
were admitted by the inspector who was in charge of the room.

It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to be
designated by the name of "office," as it was called by every one
who spoke of it; though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office,
as was shown by the immense table-desk of dark mahogany, and all
the other paraphernalia of a banker's work-room, from ticker to
typewriter.

But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of
the windows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all betokened
luxurious tastes that are rarely indulged in office furnishings.