Imitating the cough of a confirmed dope user, Craig was led into a
large waiting room.

"You're in pretty bad shape, sah," commented the servant.

Kennedy nudged me and, taking the cue, I coughed myself red in the
face.

"Yes," he said. "Hurry--please."

The servant knocked at a door, and as it was opened we caught a
glimpse of Mrs. Garrett in negligee.

"What is it, Sam?" she asked.

"Two gentlemen for some heroin tablets, ma'am."

"Tell them to go to the chemical works--not to my office, Sam,"
growled a man's voice inside.

With a quick motion, Kennedy had Mrs. Garrett by the wrist.

"I knew it," he ground out. "It was all a fake about how you got
the habit. You wanted to get it, so you could get and hold him.
And neither one of you would stop at anything, not even the murder
of your sister, to prevent the ruin of the devilish business you
have built up in manufacturing and marketing the stuff."

He pulled the note from the hand of the surprised negro. "I had
the right address, the place where you sell hundreds of ounces of