and I had occupied for some time. I say we occupied it. We did so
during those hours when he was not at his laboratory at the
Chemistry Building on the University campus, or working on one of
those cases which fascinated him. Fortunately, he happened to be
there as I burst in upon him.

"Well?" he queried absently, looking up from a book, one of the
latest untranslated treatises on the new psychology from the pen
of the eminent scientist, Dr. Freud of Vienna, "what brings you
uptown so early?"

Briefly as I could, I explained to him what it was that I proposed
to do. He listened without comment and I rattled on, determined
not to allow him to negative it.

"And," I added, warming up to the subject, "I think I owe a debt
of gratitude to the managing editor. He has crystallised in my
mind an idea that has long been latent. Why, Craig," I went on,
"that is exactly what you want--to show people how they can never
hope to beat the modern scientific detective, to show that the
crime-hunters have gone ahead faster even than--"

The telephone tinkled insistently.

Without a word, Kennedy motioned to me to "listen in" on the
extension on my desk, which he had placed there as a precaution so
that I could corroborate any conversation that took place over our
wire.

His action was quite enough to indicate to me that, at least, he