“At least give me the benefit of your advice before you leave.”

“Happy to do so,” agreed Chan. “It is worthless, but you are welcome.”

“Captain Flannery is completely stumped, though of course he won’t admit it. I told him all about Hilary Galt and Eve Durand, and he just opened his mouth and forgot to close it.”

“Better men than the Captain might also pause in yawning doubt.”

“Yes - I admit that.” Miss Morrow’s white forehead wrinkled in perplexity. “It’s all so scattered - San Francisco and London and Peshawar - it almost looks as though whoever solved it must make a trip around the world.”

Chan shook his head. “Many strings reach back, but solution will lie in San Francisco. Accept my advice, and take heart bravely.”

The girl still puzzled. “We know that Hilary Galt was killed sixteen years ago. A long time, but Sir Frederic was the sort who would never abandon a trail. We also know that Sir Frederic was keenly interested in the disappearance of Eve Durand from Peshawar. That might have been a natural curiosity - but if it was, why should he rush to the newspaper office and demand that nothing be printed about it? No - it was more than curiosity. He was on the trail of something.”

“And near the end of it,” put in Kirk. “He told me that much.”

Miss Morrow nodded. “Near the end - what did that mean? Had he found Eve Durand? Was he on the point of exposing her identity? And was there some one - Eve Durand or some one else - who was determined he should never do so? So determined, in fact, that he - or she - would not stop short of murder to silence him?”

“All expressed most clearly,” approved Chan.

“Oh - but it isn’t clear at all. Was Hilary Galt’s murder connected somehow with the disappearance of that young girl from Peshawar? The velvet slippers - where are they now? Did the murderer of Sir Frederic take them? And if so - why?”

“Many questions arise,” admitted Chan. “All in good time you get the answers.”

“We’ll never get them,” sighed the girl, “without your help.”

Chan smiled. “How sweet your flattery sounds.” He considered. “I made no search of the office last night. But Captain Flannery did. What was found? Records? A case-book?”

“Nothing,” said Kirk, “that had any bearing on the matter. Nothing that mentioned Hilary Galt or Eve Durand.”

Chan frowned. “Yet without question of doubt, Sir Frederic kept records. Were those records the prize for which the killer made frantic search? Doubtless so. Did he - or she - then, find them? That would seem to be true, unless -“

“Unless what?” asked the girl quickly.

“Unless Sir Frederic had removed same to safe and distant place. On face of things, he expected marauder. He may have baited trap with pointless paper. You have hunted his personal effects, in bedroom?”

“Everything,” Kirk assured him. “Nothing was found. In the desk downstairs were some newspaper clippings - accounts of the disappearance of other women who walked off into the night. Sir Frederic evidently made such cases his hobby.”

“Other women?” Chan was thoughtful.

“Yes. But Flannery thought those clippings meant nothing, and I believe he was right.”

“And the cutting about Eve Durand remained in Sir Frederic’s purse?” continued Chan.

“By gad!” Kirk looked at the girl.