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waiting. Coffee, as you know, stimulates and fortifies the mind.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Huntley Van Horn.

“Miss Julie———” Chan suggested.

The girl smiled wanly. “Yes, of course. I'll tell Jessop to get things ready. You must forgive me. I’d quite forgotten we had guests to-night.”

She turned and went out. Charlie walked back to the small table where his task lay uncompleted. At that instant a French window facing the street was thrust suddenly open, and the trade-wind swept into the room like a miniature hurricane. Instantly the air was filled with torn bits of photograph, swirling about like snow in a Minnesota blizzard.

Kashimo stuck his head into the room. “S-s-s,” he hissed. “Charlie!”

“Splendid work, Kashimo,” said Chan through his teeth. “What is it now?”

“I find window unlocked,” announced the Japanese triumphantly, and withdrew, closing the aperture behind him.

Concealing his disgust, Charlie moved around the room, retrieving the bits of photograph from most unlikely places. Tarneverro and some of the others came promptly to his aid. In a few moments, he again held a little packet of scraps in his hand. He walked about, still seeking, but no more were in sight.

He resumed his place at the table, and for a few moments he worked hard. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and stood up.

“What’s the trouble?” Tarneverro asked.

Charlie looked at him. “No use. I have now little more than half the pieces I had before.” For a moment