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There came a knock at the laboratory door.

“If you’ll just go into the next room with Walter,” said Craig to Burke, “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Sit down, make yourself at home.”

I went in with him and Burke dropped into a chair beside my typewriter. The laboratory door opened. From where we were sitting we could see in a mirror on the opposite wall that it was a girl, dark of skin, perhaps a mulatto, but extremely beautiful, with great brown eyes and just a trace of kinkiness in her black hair. But it was the worried, almost haunted, look on her face that attracted one’s attention most.

I happened to glance at Burke to see whether he had noticed it. I thought his eyes would pop out of his head.

Just then Kennedy walked across the laboratory and closed our door.

“What’s the matter?” I whispered.

But before Burke could reply, a draught opened the door just a bit. He placed his finger on his lips. We could not close the door, and we sat there in our corner unintentional but no less interested eavesdroppers.

“Mademoiselle Collette Aux Cayes is my name,” she began, with a strangely French accent which we could just understand. “I’ve heard of you, Professor Kennedy, as a great detective.”

“I should be glad to do what I can for you,” he returned. “But you mustn’t expect too much. You seem to be in some great trouble.”

“Trouble–yes,” she replied excitedly. “My name isn’t really Aux Cayes. That is the name of my guardian, a friend of my father’s. Both my father and mother are dead–killed by a mob during an uprising several years ago. I was in Paris at the time, being educated in a convent, or I suppose I should have been killed, too.”

She seemed to take it as a matter of course, from which I concluded that she had been sent to Paris when she was very young and did not remember her parents very well.

“At last the time came for me to go back to Hayti,” she resumed. “There is nothing that would interest you about that–except that after I got back, in Port au Prince, I met a young lawyer–Guillaume Leon.”

She hesitated and looked at Craig as though trying to read whether he had ever heard the name before, but Kennedy betrayed nothing. There was more than that in her tone, though. It was evident that Leon had been more than a friend to her.

“Hayti has been so upset during the past months,” she went on, “that my guardian decided to go to New York, and of course I was taken along with him. It happened that on the ship–the Haytien –Monsieur Leon went also. It was very nice until–“

She came to a full stop. Kennedy encouraged her gently, knowing what she was going to tell.

“One night, after we had been out some time,” she resumed unexpectedly, “I could not sleep and I went out on the deck to walk and watch the moonlight. As I walked softly up and down, I heard voices, two men, in the shadow of one of the cabins. They were talking and now and then I could catch a word. It was about Guillaume. I heard them say that he was plotting another revolution, that that was the reason he was going to New York–not because he wanted to be on the boat with me. There was something about money, too, although I couldn’t get it very clearly. It had to do with an American banking house, Forsythe & Co., I think,–money that was to be paid to Guillaume to start an uprising. I think they must have heard me, for I couldn’t hear any more and they moved off down the deck, so that I couldn’t recognize them. You see, I am not a revolutionist. My guardian belongs to the old order.”

She stopped again, as though in doubt just how to go on. “Anyhow,” she continued finally, “I determined to tell Guillaume. It would have made it harder for us–but it was he, not his politics, I loved.” She was almost crying as she blurted out, “But it was only the next day that he was found dead in his stateroom. I never saw him alive after I overheard that talk.”