crime, and the murderer's present place of hiding. And if you come
back to the smoker with me, I'll give you an opportunity to judge
if he knew good whisky from bad."

I put the articles from the pockets back again and got up. "I
wonder if there is a diner on?" I said. "I need something sustaining
after all this."

I was conscious then of some one at my elbow. I turned to see the
young woman whose face was so vaguely familiar. In the very act of
speaking she drew back suddenly and colored.

"Oh,--I beg your pardon," she said hurriedly, "I--thought you
were--some one else." She was looking in a puzzled fashion at my
coat. I felt all the cringing guilt of a man who has accidentally
picked up the wrong umbrella: my borrowed collar sat tight on my
neck.

"I'm sorry," I said idiotically. "I'm sorry, but--I'm not." I
have learned since that she has bright brown hair, with a loose
wave in it that drops over her ears, and dark blue eyes with black
lashes and--but what does it matter? One enjoys a picture as a
whole: not as the sum of its parts.

She saw the flask then, and her errand came back to her. "One of
the ladies at the end of car has fainted," she explained. "I
thought perhaps a stimulant--"

I picked up the flask at once and followed my guide down the aisle.
Two or three women were working over the woman who had fainted.