scene I had picked up the ejected shell where it lay right at the feet

of the body but no other shell was found; that in itself would prove that only one shot was fired there. He killed himself, all right, and Terhune's a happy man that he solved the murder to suit himself, but I won't accept his solution until every other possibility fails."

"You're thinking, then, there's a chance he may be right?"

"Damn it, man, I don't know what to think!" the Inspector cried. "It is more than two weeks since the woman was done to death and I'm no nearer the truth than when I started. You know what the department is, Mac. There are plenty waiting for my head to fall, and I'm not getting any younger! I can't afford to lay down on this. The papers are putting up a howl as it is over the delay in nailing someone for the crime; they're not particular who, but they need the copy. Besides that, the Jarvises are too prominent and the case itself had too many sensational details for the public to lose interest in it and let other things crowd it out of mind until some explanation is made. The Commissioner gave me a pretty broad hint the other day that it was time to show results and you know what that means. If I don't make good on this I'm a dead one!"

"You'll make good on it, sir!" McCarty burst out, the last trace of his resentment gone before the look of despair on his former superior's face. "I was going to spring it on you to get even with you for giving me the laugh the other day, but after all it's up to the department to pull it off."

"Mac!" The Inspector jumped to his feet, his worn face brightening with an almost incredulous hope. "What do you mean? You haven't found the man!"

"I'm thinking he'll call at my rooms this night," McCarty replied, his face sobering. "I dropped in to ask you, would you come, sir, and bring Martin and Yost with you. Unless I ball the whole thing up there'll be work for them to do later on, but I'd like them there ahead of any of the others."

"What others?" demanded the Inspector. "Mac, for God's sake if you've got actual proof of the murder's identity and know where he is, tell me now and don't take fool chances!"

"Excuse me, sir!" McCarty's jaw set in a manner the other recognized. "I'm not on the force, if you mind, but only a private party that's butted into the case and I'll tell what I've done in my own way or not at all. I've been in the gallery at more than one of Terhune's little shows and now I'm going to give a séance of my own. Besides you and him I'll have Norwood and young Jarvis; Mr. Vivaseur can come too, if he likes, since he's taken an interest in the case and 'twill do no harm if Denny sits in a corner. There'll be a lady present, too, to keep Martin and Yost company in the back room until they're wanted. 'Tis too bad that Captain Marchal can't come back for the one evening, but he's done the next best thing; he's left us a signed statement of the truth."

"A signed statement!" the Inspector repeated. "Where did you get it?"

"You let me have it yourself, sir," McCarty grinned. "But I'll tell you no more now."

"Look here!" exclaimed the Inspector. "Except for the woman, whoever she is, and Martin and Yost, you've only named the people who were present at Terhune's experiment two weeks ago. You can't mean that one of them murdered Mrs. Jarvis?"

"It is likely?" McCarty snorted. "I want them all there, though, when the blackguard that did it shows himself. You'll come, sir?"

"Mac, I don't know whether to believe you or not, but you've got me where you want me," the Inspector laughed somewhat uncertainly. "If you won't speak now, you won't, and I'll have to trust you. I'll be there with Martin and Yost."

"At eight then, sir, and see that they're heeled." McCarty picked up his hat. "I don't expect any rough stuff, but you never can tell. Good-by, sir."

Leaving Headquarters he telephoned to Wade Terhune tendering an invitation to his séance that evening, and thoroughly enjoyed the amused and skeptical tone of the great man's acceptance and promise to bring his client. Next he journeyed across town to the private detective agency of one James B. Shane, whom he familiarly addressed as "Jim" and with whom he was in close consultation for more than an hour. One o'clock found him consuming pie and coffee at a nearby lunch counter, after which repast he presented himself at the Norwood house.

"Uncle Cal has gone with Oliver out to Mrs. Jarvis' grave." Joan explained as she greeted McCarty in the drawing-room. "We were both so sorry not to have seen you on Saturday night; weren't we, Eric?"

She appealed to the Englishman who exclaimed as he shook hands.

"Rather! We couldn't imagine what had become of you last week, but we hoped you were working on the investigation. I say, were you?"

"A part of the time," McCarty responded. "I've not given up hope yet, but I can't see my way to going on with it much further alone. I thought that maybe if we all got together and talked it over--Terhune and Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Norwood and the Inspector--and pieced out what each of us knew or thought we knew, we might get something fresh to start on. The rest have agreed to come to my rooms to-night at half-past eight and I called to see if Mr. Norwood would mind being there, too."

"Of course Uncle Cal will come." Joan's face had fallen. "But haven't you any news for me, Mr. McCarty? Oh, I did so hope that you would be able to discover the truth!"

McCarty flushed deeply.

"I tried, miss," he said simply.

"I say, mayn't I come, too?" Vivaseur asked impulsively. "I know I'm a rank outsider but I've been doing a lot of thinking on the subject and I've an idea or two which may be worth something. If I'm not intruding----"

"Sure! Come if you like," McCarty said cordially. "You and Miss Norwood gave me some good tips before and I'm thinking the Inspector is open now to suggestions from any quarter."

"I suppose I mustn't invite myself?" Joan pouted. "I think you might have held your conference here, Mr. McCarty, and permitted me to be present!"

"I'm afraid that the Inspector----" McCarty began somewhat doubtfully and Vivaseur came to the rescue.

"Not at a council of war, Joan dear; it isn't done," he said lightly. "I'll come back with your uncle to-night if it is not too late and tell you all about it. That will be best."

"Then that's settled." McCarty rose. "At half-past eight, Mr. Vivaseur."

Yet another call remained to be paid before he could return to his rooms and prepare for what the evening would bring forth. He betook himself to the firehouse where Dennis had returned to his duty and the mask which he had worn all day slipped from him.

"It's done, Denny!" he cried gleefully. "It's all over but the shouting!"

"Is it the murderer you mean!" Dennis spoke in an awestruck whisper. "You've got him, Mac?"

"You mind Jim Shane, that was roundsman in my precinct when I was on my first beat?" McCarty ignored the question. "Well, he's running a private-detective bureau now and on the Thursday before we started for New Orleans I put him to work on a little job for me that has turned the trick!"

"Before we went to New Orleans!" exclaimed Dennis. "You knew then who the fellow was that murdered Mrs. Jarvis?"

"I knew the truth of it when I stood beside that poor, blind Frenchman's body, God rest him, but I couldn't have proved it, and if I had spoken I'd have been put away for a lunatic," McCarty responded gravely. "Instead of being like most cases, where you hold a million loose threads and don't know where they lead to, I had the answer but not the way to connect it up. Are you on day or night duty now?"

"Day," Dennis responded eagerly. "My nights are my own and if there's anything doing this evening I'll be on the job. But who is he, Mac? You've held out on me long enough----"

"You'll know to-night." McCarty regarded him quizzically. "Are you wishful to take part in another little scientific experiment?"

Dennis quailed, then squared his shoulders doggedly.

"I'm not, and well you know it, but if it's going to be the finish, you can count me in. What is it you are going to do now, Mac? Hand Terhune all the credit, like you did in that other case last year?"

"Not this time," McCarty smiled. "I'm holding this séance myself in my own rooms at half-past eight, and there'll be no dinky little machines to take records of every breath you draw."

"'Séance'!" Dennis shivered. "Isn't that what they call it when some medium throws a fit and brings back the spirits of the dead?"

"It is, and that's what I'm going to do." McCarty paused, and then added: "Not throw a fit, I don't mean, but it's a spirit I'm going to bring back from the dead all right; a spirit as evil and black as the devil himself, Denny, with more than one murder on the vile soul of him! 'Twas you yourself first put me on his track, though little you knew it, and to-night we'll resurrect him."

Dennis crossed himself fervently.

"I always said you'd get whoever you were after, if you had to go to the next world to find him, but I never thought to see you do it," he said. "Spooks or no, I'll be there, Mac, with bells on!"