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132 have to run down to Washington tonight, and it may be three or four days before I get back. I want to talk things over.”

We took a cab uptown and stopped at Riley’s—the Studio, alas! had closed its doors—and we were presently ensconced in a snug corner, where we could talk without danger of being overheard.

“I’ve found out a few things about Tremaine,” began Godfrey, as the waiter hurried away with our order.

“And I about Thompson,” I said.

“You have?” and he looked at me in surprise. “How in the world did you do it?”

His astonishment was distinctly complimentary, and I related with considerable gratification my conversation with the mate of the Parima.

“Well,” observed Godfrey, when I had finished, “that was a bright idea of yours—that establishes the link between the two men. Our St. Pierre correspondent wires us that Tremaine arrived there some three years ago, presumably from South America. He bought a little plantation just outside the town and settled there. He seemed to have plenty of money when he arrived, but he probably spent it all—on that girl Cecily, perhaps—for before he sailed, he borrowed thirty-five hundred francs with his plantation as security.”

“Seven hundred dollars—that wouldn’t go far,” I commented.

“No—let’s see just how far,” and Godfrey drew the menu card toward him and made the following computation in one corner: