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124 than admit it, the detective sergeant was one of the little Frenchman's staunchest admirers.

He had been associated with Peret almost daily for several years, and had given up a good many hours to the study of the other's methods in the hope that some day he would be able to emulate his friend's success. He knew that, mentally at least, Peret was his superior, and he was ever ready to place himself under the other's guidance when he could veil his real intentions sufficiently to make it appear that he himself was the leader.

"This case, at first glance, is the cat's meow," he said, tentatively. "It's the most complicated murder mystery I ever had anything to do with. What do you make of it, Peret?"

As Peret was about to reply, the door opened and three men entered the room. The first of these, a tall, middle-aged man, with a gray mustache and a fine, upright carriage, was Major and Superintendent of Police Dobson. Immediately behind him came Coroner Rane, an elderly man with penetrating gray eyes, and Police Sergeant Alington, small, stoop-shouldered and addicted to big-rimmed spectacles.

"What's all the trouble about, sergeant?" was Dobson's greeting. He nodded to Peret, and continued: "I happened to be in my office when your call came., [sic] so I hurried over."

"I'm mighty glad you came." said Strange. "I'm afraid this case is going to prove troublesome. Did you view the bodies on the pavement."

"Yes," said the major. "I helped Rane examine them."

"Well, here's another one for you to examine," said the detective grimly, and, stepping aside, he exposed to the view of the newcomers the body of the dead valet.

"This is not murder, it's a massacre!" exclaimed the coroner. He knelt beside the body, and scrutinized the valet's face.

"This man has been dead for several hours, major," he continued. "Death was probably instantaneous, as this dagger is buried to the hilt in his heart." He tapped the hilt of the weapon with one of his fingers, and looked up at Strange. "Is this man supposed to have been murdered by the 'invisible monster' also?" he asked sarcastically.

"So you've heard about the 'invisible monster'," returned Strange, non-committally.

"Detective Frank, who was guarding the bodies on the pavement, told us some wild tale about an invisible murderer," remarked Dobson, with a quizzical uplift of his brows. Then, failing to draw an explanation from the sergeant, he asked: "Have you made any arrests?"

"I have not," replied Strange, then gave a rapid account of the measures he had taken to prevent the murderer's escape.

Dobson nodded his approval.

"Now, tell me all you know about these mysterious deaths," he suggested, and Strange, nothing loath, gave a brief though vivid recital of all the known facts in the case.

"This third murder," he said in conclusion, "instead of complicating matters, seems to make the going a little easier. In the dagger, with which this man was killed, we have something tangible, anyway. But as for Max Berjet and Dr. Sprague—."

"Dr. Rane," interrupted Peret from the depths of a morris chair into which he had dropped, "will you venture an opinion as to how Berjet and Sprague met their deaths?"

"It is impossible to reply with any degree of certainty until after the autopsy," answered the coroner: "but offhand I should say that they were either asphyxiated or poisoned."

Peret scowled at the coroner and relapsed into silence.