"Of all men in the world you are the one I most desire to see," exclaimed
Vane. Then he turned to Bordine. "Mr. Bordine, this is my old friend from
Newport, Silas Keene. You may have heard me mention his name."

"Yes. I have read of him as well. I am happy to clasp the hand of the
most noted detective of Gotham."

This was no flattery.

Silas Keene was not a secondary man. He was first in everything
pertaining to matters criminal. He had traced down more crime perhaps
than any man of his age in Gotham, and he was verging on forty.

It was opportune indeed, the great detective coming at this time.

Ransom Vane had known the man for years, and the twain had been bosom
friends.

"I cannot remain with you, Ransom," said Bordine, "but I will come again
soon. If you require any help from me, you know, you have only to call on
me."

"Certainly."

A minute later the man in hunter's costume had disappeared.

Sile Keene went in to look at the dead girl, then he examined the ground
closely, the porch, the letters, and finally investigated the extent and
shape of the death-wound.