"You make me tired," said Tracey impatiently. "I'm going to see if that man's got a photograph of the husband. Married people sometimes get taken together. If Mrs. Brand had a photo taken at this man's place, she would probably, when she wanted another, or to be photographed with her husband, go there. Don't you catch on? Besides, the husband may have gone with her without being taken. Oh, I'll get his picture."
"But what good will that do?"
"Well, it might put a clue into our hands. He may have loved the woman who stabbed his wife."
"It's all theory," said Arnold impatiently.
"And I guess it will be, till we get down to the bed-rock of the business," said the American dryly. "However--hullo Snakes, what's that row?"
"It's a ring at the bell," said Arnold, peering out of the window. He then drew back with a look of surprise. "It's Jasher."
"Great Scot! What's he come here for? All the better: we'll interview him. I'd like to see the sort of man you have running the biz. We might syndicate. Yes--oh I guess so."
In a few minutes Jasher, round and rosy and fat and short of breath, was in the room, expressing his surprise at the sight of his employer.
"I just came up to have a look at the house," said he; "and never expected to see you here, or Mr. Tracey either."
"What's that?" queried Tracey, "you know my name?"