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266 "No trouble; the messenger's on the way. Don't forget that little reunion we are going to have as soon as you get a breathing-spell. So long."

The receiver clicked, and Odell sat down on the side of his bed. The motive which he had so carefully built up had dissipated into thin air; and despite the suspicions expressed by Miss Risby, the detective felt that he was back once more at the starting-point of his investigation. The fact of the two murders had been proved to his own satisfaction at least, and the evidence of the two other attempted ones was incontrovertible; but of the identity of the slayer no slightest trace had been gained, save that he must be a person of extraordinary physical strength, great ingenuity, and a capacity for carelessness in each case which savored of insane recklessness.

Insane! Why had that word formed itself in his mind? Had the conversation of the previous night with the woman who had first warned him made a still more profound impression upon his subconsciousness than he had been aware of? If this series of crimes were indeed the work of one with an unsound mind no motive need be looked for. Could the seemingly astute but erratic speculator be guilty after all of the death of his wife and her son?

The report arrived while he was dressing, and a cursory glance through it sufficed to convince the detective that his friend had stated the situation correctly. The new company had been phenomenally successful since its incorporation; and Lorne's speculations of the past few weeks had evidently netted him no mean fortune.

Breakfasting at a small restaurant near his rooms, Odell went immediately to the Meade house, where he encountered