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THE CLUE OF THE TWISTED CANDLE

Mrs. Cassley; "I am going to make a few investigations."

Kara was at home, but was in bed. T. X. remembered that this extraordinary man invariably went to bed early and that it was his practice to receive visitors in this guarded room of his. He was admitted almost at once and found Kara in his silk dressing-gown lying on the bed smoking. The heat of the room was unbearable even on that bleak February night.

"This is a pleasant surprise," said Kara, sitting up; "I hope you don't mind my déshabillé."

T. X. came straight to the point.

"Where is Miss Holland?" he asked.

"Miss Holland?" Kara's eyebrows advertised his astonishment. "What an extraordinary question to ask me, my dear man! At her home, or at the theatre or in a cinema palace—I don't know how these people employ their evenings."

"She is not at home," said T. X., "and I have reason to believe that she has not left this house."

"What a suspicious person you are, Mr. Mere-

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