young American husband had shot a millionaire Hindu prince. The American had for several months been living practically apart from his beautiful young Spanish wife, who was a neighbor of the glamorous victim and seen in his company almost every day. It wouldn't take an alert reporter for a New York yellow newspaper fifteen minutes to gather these facts, evolve jealousy as the motive for the shooting and work it into a story rich in spicy hints, "it is saids" and scandalous innuendoes and probably illustrated with photographs of Carmelita's house and Rao-Singh's study, with an "X" indicating where the body was found. Dudley had seen this done so many times before. It was a story after a yellow reporter's heart.
In a way it was fortunate. He couldn't hope to keep Carmelita out of the case entirely anyway, and by playing up his strong motives for shooting Rao-Singh the newspapers would throw themselves and the public off the real scent. Meantime he had better get in touch with Carmelita. She had been on his mind ever since that astounding sight of her escaping through Rao-Singh's French windows. He was fearfully anxious to know the real story of what had happened and worried to know what she was doing now. He was only too well aware of her fiery impulsiveness on oc-
