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Miss Madelyn Mack, Detective

let. Again I thought that I heard the strains of "Traumerei." "I was once asked to name a detective's first rule of guidance," she said irrelevantly. "I answered to remember always that nothing is trivial—in crime." She paused. "Every day I find something new to prove the correctness of my rule!"

"But surely you have discovered nothing—"

Madelyn gazed at the owner of "The Maples" with her peculiar twinkle. "There are two persons in this house with whom I would like a few moments' conversation. They are the butler and Miss Van Sutton's maid. Could you have them sent to the library?"

"Certainly. Is there anything else?"

Madelyn reached absently across to the ash trays again. There seemed a peculiar fascination for her in their prosaic litter.

"Could I also have the honor of a short interview with your daughter?"

Mr. Van Sutton inclined his head and stepped into the hall. As I followed him, the door was closed sharply behind us. I whirled around and heard the key turn. Madelyn had locked herself in.

Mr. Van Sutton straightened with a frown. Then, without a word, he spun about on his heels and strode toward his daughter's boudoir. I descended the stairs alone.

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