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fered a case. “Good evening,” he remarked. “Will you have one of my cigars?”

“No, thank you,” Tarneverro answered blandly. “I don’t use them.”

“So sorry,” replied the Britisher. “I rather thought you did.”

Charlie stepped hastily between them. “Will you be seated, please? We are all here, yes—except my Chief. We wait few minutes for him.”

They sat down. Rita, Diana and Julie chatted together in low tones. The men were silent, staring into space.

Presently there was a clatter in the hall, and the Chief strode in. After him came Spencer, big and competent-looking. Chan leaped up.

“Ah, Chief,—now we may go forward. I have explained that we desire to make small experiment. You know some of these people——”

Wilkie Ballou shook the Chief’s hand. “I’m glad to see you here,” he remarked, with a glance toward Charlie.

“Mr. Tarneverro is also known to you,” Chan continued, oblivious. He introduced the others. “Now we will all proceed to dining-room,” he finished.

“What! Another dinner party?” cried Rita Ballou.

“A peculiar dinner party,” Chan told her, “at which no food will be served. Come this way, please.”

They filed out, solemn and ill-at-ease now. The presence of the Chief and the burly policeman in uniform had served to impress them with the seriousness of the situation. Not unnaturally, they were asking themselves what all this meant? Was it a trap?

Jessop was on duty in the dining-room, grave and