I trust your beautiful garment is not a complete ruin.”

“Give me that scarf,” she cried, and snatched it rudely from him.

Paradise appeared in the doorway. “Miss Morrow, please,” he said. “Captain Flannery is below.”

“You will kindly wait here,” said the girl. “All of you. I shall arrange for your release at the earliest possible moment.”

With Kirk and Charlie Chan, she returned to the twentieth floor. In the central room they found Captain Flannery, a gray-haired, energetic policeman of about fifty. With him were two patrolmen and a police doctor.

“Hello, Miss Morrow,” said the Captain. “This is a he - I mean, a terrible thing. Sir Frederic Bruce of Scotland Yard - we’re up against it now. If we don’t make good quick we’ll have the whole Yard on our necks.”

“I’m afraid we shall,” admitted Miss Morrow. “Captain Flannery - this is Mr. Kirk. And this - Detective-Sergeant Charlie Chan, of Honolulu.”

The Captain looked his fellow detective over slowly. “How are you, Sergeant? I’ve been reading about you in the paper. You got on this job mighty quick.”

Chan shrugged. “Not my job, thank you,” he replied. “All yours, and very welcome. I am here in society role, as guest of kind Mr. Kirk.”

“Is that so?” The Captain appeared relieved. “Now, Miss Morrow, what have you found out?”

“Very little. Mr. Kirk was giving a dinner upstairs.” She ran over the list of the guests, the showing of the pictures in the dark, and the butler’s story of Sir Frederic’s descent to the floor below, wearing the velvet slippers. “There are other aspects of the affair that I will take up with you later,” she added.

“All right. I guess the D.A. will want to get busy on this himself.”

The girl flushed. “Perhaps. He is out of town tonight. I hope he will leave the matter in my hands -“

“Great Scott, Miss Morrow - this is important,” said the Captain, oblivious of his rudeness. “You’re holding those people upstairs?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. I’ll look ‘em over later.