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that, and that he bled?” came the incredulous voice of one of them.

“I don’t mean to say anything, gentlemen,” I said. “I’m simply showing you this, and telling you what happened. I’m from Headquarters, myself, and it’s my business to find out just what is going on here—and to locate the murderer of Augustin Arnold, if I can. I haven’t said a word about a ghost—”

“But this invisible hand,” objected the first reporter. “If you couldn’t see it, and yet it was there, how do you account for it, if it wasn’t a ghost?”

“I don’t account for it,” I said quite frankly. “I wish I could—then I'd be able to get up a report for the Chief that he might believe. As it is, I don’t quite know just what to tell him, and still get him to believe that I didn’t have a drop to drink. Thank the Lord there were plenty of people here who saw the same thing I saw—or rather, who failed to see the same thing that I failed to see. If it wasn’t for that, I'd hardly be able to believe it myself. I don’t blame you, you know, for having trouble in making any commonsense headway with this story. I really feel the same way myself.”

“Has Miss Sargent heard anything more from ‘Unknown Admirer’?” asked one of the reporters. The letters to her, as I have said, had been published in the papers.