Kennedy appeared to be considering something.

"The trouble," he said, at length, "is likely to be at this end.
Perhaps before the train starts something may happen that will
tell us just what additional measures to take as it approaches New
York."

While Kennedy was at work with the blood-soaked gauze that he had
taken from Barnes, I could do nothing but try to place the
relative positions of the various actors in the little drama that
was unfolding. Lane himself puzzled me. Sometimes I felt almost
sure that he knew that Miss Euston had come to Kennedy, and that
he was trying, in this way, to keep in touch with what was being
done for Barnes.

Some things I knew already. Barnes was comparatively wealthy, and
had evidently the stamp of approval of Maude Euston's father. As
for Lane, he was far from wealthy, although ambitious.

The company was in a delicate situation where an act of omission
would count for as much as an act of commission. Whoever could
foresee what was going to happen might capitalize that information
for much money. If there was a plot and Barnes had been a victim,
what was its nature? I recalled Miss Euston's overheard
conversation in the tea-room. Both names had been mentioned. In
short, I soon found myself wondering whether some one might not
have tempted Lane either to do or not to do something.

"I wish you'd go over to the St. Germaine, Walter," remarked
Kennedy, at length, looking up from his work. "Don't tell Miss