came to him on my advice, and that I want everything about the affair kept as quiet as possible in the interests of the case upon which I am at work."
The younger man flushed as they shook hands.
"Thank you, Sergeant Odell. You can trust me now."
As he made his way down to the second floor the detective congratulated himself that his supposition in regard to the forgery had been verified and some headway had been gained at last in the process of elimination. Gene and Farley Drew were definitely erased from his list of suspects, and the motive for Lorne's possible guilt loomed large.
Another factor, minor but significant, presented itself for his consideration. Kenny, the boss carpenter who had received that mysterious telephone summons to rehang the portrait, said that the voice which spoke to him was "gruff-like and rasping but not real deep." Lorne's tones were hoarse, but throaty rather than low and heavy. It seemed the wildest improbability that he would telephone such a message knowing the comment it would arouse in the household when the men appeared to do their work; but this was merely another of the irreconcilable inconsistencies which Odell had encountered at every turn and which must be left for explanation until the final solution.
He had intended to pay a second visit to Lorne; but as he passed Rannie's door he hesitated, and then turned back and knocked.
The familiar high, querulous tones bade him enter, and he found the hunchback seated by the window with a huge leather-bound volume in his shrunken, clawlike hands.
"Well, Sergeant, are you hot on the trail?" There was a trace of the habitual sneer in the boy's voice; but Odell ob-
