In her own room, Zizi was holding a confab with the chambermaid, for whom she had sent.

"Yes, miss," the girl said, staring into Zizi's magnetic eyes. "I had the care of them rooms all the time Sir Binney was in 'em."

"Yes, Molly, I know you did, and I want to know a few things about Sir Herbert Binney. Was he a fussy gentleman, about germs, say, and——"

"Germs? miss, how do you mean?"

"Was he afraid of imperfect drains, unaired mattresses or careless cleaning?"

"He was not! Lordy, the germs coulda carried him off and he'd never noticed it. He wudden't know whether I swept or dusted rightly, or whether I gave the place a lick and a promise. He was wrapped up in his own affairs so's you could hardly get his attention to ask him anythin'. Why, miss?"

"Don't ask me why,—ever!" Zizi spoke sharply but not unkindly, and the girl remembered. "Now, Molly, the day before Sir Herbert moved in, he had the sitting-room cleaned and repapered. If he wasn't afraid of germs, why have new paper?"

"Well, the old stuff was a sight, miss. All over, a dark green sorta lattice work pattern with smashin' big red roses."

"Sounds rather effective——"

"A nightmare, that's what it was. Well, Sir Herbert, the minnit he looked at it he said, 'Rip it off!'"

"Did you hear him say it?"

"No, miss, the bellboy told me. He was luggin' up bags and things and he said the new man was a peppery cuss."

"Was he?"

"Why, no, he didn't seem that way to me. Easy-goin', I sh'd say. Absent-minded, now an' then,—av'rage generous, an' not payin' much attention to his surroundin's. That's the way I size up Sir Binney."

"And who do you think killed him?"

"Oh, Lordy, don't ask me that!" The girl looked frightened, and quick-witted Zizi, instead of pursuing the subject then, turned it off with, "No, indeed, when detectives are busy on the case, small need to ask outsiders."

"Not that I'm exactly an outsider, neither," and Molly bridled as with a sense of self-importance. "Of course a chambermaid, now, can't help seein' a lot of what goes on."

"Of course not," Zizi said, carelessly. "But she isn't supposed to tattle and I shouldn't dream of quizzing you."

"No, ma'am. Not but what I could tell things——"

"But you wouldn't. You might get into serious trouble if you did."

Molly looked at her sharply.

"As how, miss?" she said.

"Well, you see, it's very hard to tell anything just exactly as it happened, and if you should vary a shade from the truth, and then tell it differently next time you might get arrested for—for perjury."

"Arrested! Do you mean that?"

"I certainly do. I've known girls to tell stories under stress of excitement and then try to repeat them and get all mixed up, and, oh, well, it's a dangerous performance."

"But if I just told you, now, miss?"

"What have you to tell? And why do you want to tell anybody?"

"I thought—I thought if I told I might get something for it."

"I like your frankness, Molly, and I don't mind offering you a fair price for your goods, if you can put 'em up. But can you?"

"Ma'am?"

"Do you really how anything of importance, that might lead to the discovery of the people who murdered Sir Herbert Binney? I don't want any hemming and hawing, but a straight answer."

"Well, I can't give you a positive answer, because I don't know myself. But I do know somebody has been in the rooms since, several times, searching about for something."

"What did this person seem to be looking for?"

"Belike it was a paper, for I could tell as how the desk drawers and the boxes in the cupboard had been moved."

"That's the sort of thing I want to know, Molly." Zizi spoke quietly and earnestly. "You can tell when things are moved as no one else can. You mean, of course, before Mr Wise took the rooms?"

"And once since. Why, last evening, when Mr Wise was out, somebody got in there."

"Who could it be, Molly?"

The earnest, chummy attitude of the inquirer made Molly feel at ease, and also anxious to please.

"I'm not sayin'," the chambermaid replied, a cloud passing over her face, "for I've no wish to get in jail, but it's somebody from the floor below."

Zizi knew the Everetts' apartment was on the floor below, but she said, "H'm, seventh floor, then. Who's down there?"

"I don't know, ma'am," and Molly's vacant stare proved her a good actress, and one determined not to give away any information.

This attitude showed Zizi that the girl was shrewd and canny, and she changed her tactics.

"There you go, Molly!" she exclaimed. "How do you know some one came up from the seventh floor? You state these things, and if you're not able to prove them—well, you know what I told you."

"But I heard the—the person come up the stairs."

"Stairs! A likely story! Why not use the elevator?"

"That's just it,—the—the person didn't want to be seen. So——"

"The person?"

"Yes'm, the person sneaks up the stairs and into the sitting-room——"

"Opening the door with a key?"

"Well,—you see, ma'am, I was in the bathroom,—and——"

"And the person didn't know you were there, and you made no sign?"

"Yes," eagerly. "Yes, that's the way it was; I thought I'd find out something——"

"And did you?"

But that time Zizi's eagerness proved her undoing.

For some reason or other Molly took alarm and shut up like a clam.

"No," she averred. "I couldn't see who it was, and as I peeked out, the—person ran away."

Zizi knew from the sly and obstinate look in her eyes that Molly was lying and that she intended to stick to it. She was nobody's fool, this Molly, and though Zizi was sure that she would yet sell her secret to the highest bidder, it was not altogether wise to begin the bidding at once. Also, Zizi felt certain that what the girl knew was of serious importance and it was imperative that Pennington Wise should learn the truth. But Zizi's ways were devious and she chose now to treat the matter lightly.

"Molly, you're a fraud," she said, laughingly; "you've built up a person of mysterious appearance and unknown sex, but I can't fall for your plan. I don't blame you for wanting to make a little easy money,—who doesn't? But you didn't pick a winner when you selected me to try it on! Go to somebody else with your wares. Try Mr Bates or Miss Prall."

The girl's face fell and Zizi smiled in satisfaction. But Molly grew belligerent and exclaimed, "Oh, very well, miss, but you'll be sorry. I will go to some one else with my story, but it will be to——"

"I know! To the person herself! Well, go on, if you can get to her undiscovered!"

"I can! With no trouble at all!"

"Not forgetting the danger you run of being arrested?"

"Danger! Pooh! You can't scare me that way? Beside, you'll never know——"

"Who the person is? I know already. Kate Holland!"

This was a mere guess on Zizi's part, and she said it to learn from Molly's expression how near right it might be.

To her surprise, Molly looked mystified.

"Kate Holland!" she whispered. "You—you don't suspect her, do you?"

"Do you?" Zizi shot back.

"Yes, I do,—or I did, until——"

"Until you saw the person?"

"Yes, that's it."

Zizi was about to insist on the name of the person when there was a tap at the door, and the head chambermaid insisted on having the services of Molly at once. The girl went away and Zizi went straight to tell Penny Wise all about it.

She tried the door of Wise's rooms and as the knob turned she walked in. But to her surprise the man sitting at the table in the sitting-room, and reading the newspaper, was not Wise but Mr Vail.

"Good afternoon," he said, a little blankly, as he rose.

"How do you do?" Zizi returned, with one of her attractive smiles. "I'm Mr Wise's assistant. Can I do anything for you?"

"I'm waiting here in hope he'll come in. I'm Vail,—I've rooms on the tenth. You may have heard of me; I'm interested in the Binney case, and I'd like a little talk with Mr Wise,—that is, if he cares for it."

"He will," and Zizi nodded confidently. "Have you any knowledge, suspicion or evidence?"

"None of those important commodities,—merely straws that may or may not show the direction of the wind."

"There's no knowing when Mr Wise will show up," Zizi observed; "don't you want to tell me? It'll be all the same."

"All the same! Are you and Mr Wise partners?"

Zizi flashed her best smile as she returned, "Practically. I'm only assistant, but what is told to me goes to him just as I get it."

"Accurate and careful, eh? Well, my information is regarding a woman I saw skulking in the halls the night of the murder. You see, it chanced that I came into the house and up in the elevator just before the tragedy occurred. I stood a few minutes at my door, before leaving the car, because Bob Moore and I were discussing the book he was reading. He's a good sort, and often when I come in late I give him a jolly to help along his weary watch hours."

"All right," chirped Zizi, "what followed?"

"Only that as we came up I heard some one on the stairs. They surround the elevator, you know, and though indistinct, I know I heard a tread on the stairs as we were at or near the eighth floor. But we came on up and then, as I say, we stood a bit talking. Then Moore went down again, and I, feeling curious about the footsteps on the stairs, went around to the staircase and looked down."

"How far could you see?"

"Not far, because the stairs wind around the elevator well. But I went down farther and I caught sight of a woman with a shawl over her head——"

"What kind of a shawl?"

"Lord, I don't know! Grayish and softish, it looked, but the night lights are dim and I only caught a glimpse of this hooded figure moving stealthily along the hall. That's all, and if it's of any importance——"

"It doesn't seem to me to be of much,—what do you think?"

Vail stared at her. He was not accustomed to have his suggestions so lightly received. But he only shrugged his shoulders, and said:

"I don't think anything about it. I merely offer the information that there was a mysterious seeming woman lurking in the halls that night: If it means nothing to anybody, there's no harm done."

"No; certainly not. How tall was she?"

"Above average height, and gaunt of figure."

"About like Miss Prall?"

"Good heavens, I wouldn't say that!"

"Why not? Is it a crime to be of Miss Prall's appearance?"

"You're a funny little piece! Well, then, I may say the shape was somewhat like Miss Prall's, but I'm sure it was not she."

"How can you be sure it was not she unless you are sure who it was?"

"I can be sure anything is not anything else, without knowing positively what anything is!" and Vail glared at her an instant, and then both broke into laughter.

"It's all right," Zizi informed him; "I'm only pursuing my investigations according to orders."

"Oho! Am I being put through a third degree?"

"Sort of. But I think I've learned all you know. Or, wait, was the beshawled one of Kate Holland's style? You know to liken one woman to another in appearance doesn't necessarily accuse her of murder."

"No, that's true. Well, the woman I saw could be said to be like Kate Holland or Miss Prall either, in general outline, which is all I could discern of face or figure. But I can't see what either of those women would be doing prowling about the halls at two A. M."

"Unless it was in connection with the murder," Zizi said, straightforwardly. "They all have declared they were in bed and asleep but who's to witness that?"

"In the very nature of things, nobody," Vail said. "And now, I'll be going. I won't wait for Mr Wise just now, but I'll see him soon, if he cares to talk to me."

But just as Vail was leaving, Richard Bates appeared, and Vail tarried to speak with him.

"Any developments?" Vail asked.

"No," said Bates, despondently. "That is, nothing of importance. I say, Vail, what do you think about the Crippen deal? You know my uncle planned to see him that night regarding a sale of the business, and——"

"Did he see him?" Vail spoke eagerly.

"I don't know. Crippen's out of town——"

"He is! Don't you think you ought to keep tabs on him?"

"Why?"

"Only because he was interested in the Binney business."

"So were you."

"True, but Sir Herbert and I had our meeting and got over it long ago."

"He wanted to sell out to you?"

"You know all about it, Bates. Binney wanted to sell his Buns to anybody who would pay enough. Of course, in the event of your sticking to your refusal to Bun with him. If you'd agree to do that, he told me, he'd have no reason to sell. But he didn't want to carry it on alone, nor did he want to go in with anybody else. He wanted to sell outright to me, but his price was prohibitive and he wouldn't ease up on it a bit, so there was nothing doing. That's all our story."

"What did he want to sell you?"

"The good will, the bakery and fixtures,—in England,—why, the Buns, the Binney Buns, lock, stock and barrel."

"Didn't he have the recipe for sale?"

"I don't know. I assume that was included in the business, of course. As I couldn't dream of meeting his figures, we didn't go into details."

"Did Crippen?"

"Dunno. I never heard what kind of a discussion they had. But what are you getting at? Why drag in Crippen?"

"Oh, hang it all, Vail, I don't want to drag in anybody; and yet I'd be willing to drag in anybody, if I had a trace of suspicion against anybody. For, unless a new suspect turns up pretty quick, I'm afraid they'll pitch on my aunt."

"Ridiculous!"

"I know it seems so to you and me, for we know Aunt Letitia, but these strangers, this Wise and Miss Zizi, here," bowing in her direction, "they are already looking——"

"Now, Mr Bates, that's too bad!" cried Zizi, her black eyes shining with real sympathy, as she saw the young man's distress. "Please be sure Mr Wise and I never look seriously in any direction unless something definite points us that way. And by elimination not many suspects are left."

"Who are eliminated?" asked Vail, gravely.

"We have cut out all thought of the chorus girls, and the girls employed in this house," Zizi began.

"All the house girls?" asked Vail, quickly.

"I'm not sure about that, but I mean the elevator girls, the telephone girls, the news-stand girls and the pages. I don't know anything about the upstairs maids, chambermaids, cleaners, and such. But there's been no suggestion of those."

"Why should there be?" said Bates, impatiently. "I know myself, no stupid little servant killed my uncle. It was done by some one with brains, with power, with influence. He was not a man to be killed for some petty reason; he was a man of big interests in a business way, and of wide experience socially. His murderers—or murderesses—must be found, but I don't think we've got on the right track yet."

"And do you think Crippen is a promising way to look?" asked Vail, scrutinizing Bates' anxious face.

"I don't know. But he was mixed up in the Bun matter; he hadn't finished the deal, as you had, and as one or two other companies had, and it seems to me he ought to be looked up, at least, before we go on."

"I've looked him up," and Wise's form came into view around the corner of the hall. He joined the group that still stood by the door of the Binney apartment. "I've looked into the Crippen connection with the Bun deal, and there's nothing doing. Binney and Crippen were on the outs but not because of Buns. They were settled some time before the murder. Still, Crippen did want the recipe, and was willing to buy that without the bakery or any paraphernalia of the business."

"Is that so?" and Vail seemed interested. "Wouldn't Binney sell that?"

"I'm told not."

"Who told you?"

"Crippen's people,—down at his office. I talked with a secretary, and I've talked with some of the 'Crippen's Cakes' directors. They want the recipe and nothing else."

"Queer," mused Zizi, "that a recipe should be so valuable! Why can't they buy a bun and analyze it, and so find out how it's made?"

"That's been tried," Vail informed her. "But the secret can't be learned that way. There's an unknown ingredient, or the things are put together in some unknown order or way,—but no one has yet been able to imitate successfully the Binney Bun. I'm a bread man, and I know that."

"Well, if you've struck off Crippen's name, where do we stand?" Richard said, looking gloomily at Wise.

"We stand pat for the women," the detective declared. "And I have from the first. I can't doubt or disbelieve a dying statement,—can you, Mr Vail?"

"Surely not. That is, on general principles. But if this pursuit of women leads to——"

"No matter where it leads," Pennington Wise said, firmly, "the trail must be followed up. Murder demands a life for a life. The danger is that suspicion may be directed toward the wrong women. But that is our great care, and I can't think it will happen."

"It must not happen," said Vail, sharply, and, with a sympathetic glance at Richard Bates, he went away.

"Now, Mr Bates," said Wise as the others returned to the sitting-room and closed the door, "I've been pretty busy and I've some good news for you. I think we can say positively there is no danger of suspicion coming to rest on your aunt or her companion, Miss Gurney."

"Thank God," cried Richard fervently.

"The matter of the paper-knife is, I think, just as Miss Prall explained it; she did give it to Sir Herbert to be mended, and he did have it in his pocket the night he was killed."

"And the assailant did use it?" asked Zizi.

"Yes; or so it seems to me. But all this has nothing to do with the owner of the knife, for you see, Binney himself was the temporary owner to all intents and purposes."

"Then that makes the deed seem unpremeditated and impulsive," said Bates.

"Yes, it makes it seem so,—though it may not have been. But since my day's work, I've gathered suggestions and testimony,—though no material evidence, to turn my thoughts strongly toward the women on the seventh floor, Mrs Everett and her——"

"Her maid!" Bates interrupted, speaking with a desperate haste, as if afraid Wise would say some other word.

"No," said Wise. "Her daughter."

"You lie!" Bates cried, and Zizi, her face white and drawn, said "Oh, Penny, she couldn't!"

"Couldn't strike the blow, maybe, but she helped her mother, and did it by keeping watch. She was seen in the hall with a scarf over her head."