Dupres," Craig whispered to me, aside.
She was tall, slender, gowned in the most modish manner, and had a foreign way about her that would have fascinated one even more cosmopolitan than a Texas veterinary.
Now and then someone would stop and chat with them and it seemed that they were on very good terms, at least with a certain group at the St. Quentin.
Kennedy moved out further into the lobby where he was more noticeable; then, with a sudden resolution, mounted the steps to the mezzanine floor and approached Haynes.
"Let me introduce Professor Kennedy, Madame Dupres," presented Haynes.
Kennedy bowed.
Whatever one's opinion of madame, he was forced to admit that she was clever. It was evident, also, that she and Haynes were on very intimate terms, also.
"I hope that you will be able to clear up the mystery that the newspapers have found in Mr. Delaney's death," she remarked. "Mr. Haynes has told me that he met you tonight with Dr. Leslie. By the way, has he told you his own theory?" she asked.
"We shall do our best," replied Kennedy, meeting her eye in as impersonal a manner as it was possible, for it is always difficult to dissociate a beautiful woman from a case like this and judge her not as a beautiful woman but on the merits of the case. "No, Mr. Haynes has not told me his theory—yet."
"I'm very glad to have met you," she added, extending her daintily gloved hand to Kennedy, "and you may be sure that if there is any way in which I can be of service I shall expect you to call on me. Just now I hope you will excuse me. I have some letters to get off—and I will leave you men to discuss Mr. Haynes' theory without being hampered by a mere woman. Never mind, Harris," she added as Haynes made as if to escort her to the ladies' writing room.
As Madame Dupres passed down the steps there was no denying that she made a splendid impression. Haynes watched her with a glance that was almost ravenous. There could be no doubt of her influence over him.
As she passed through the lobby she paused at the telegraph desk a moment, then went into the writing room.
"Yes, I think I have an explanation," began Haynes, when she was out of sight. "I've been trying to figure out what could have killed Delaney. Of course I can only guess, but I don't think it is such a bad guess."
"What is it?" asked Craig.
"You remember the mercury vapor light?"
Kennedy nodded.
"Mercury vapor lights of that sort are a pretty good source of ultra-violet rays sometimes," went on Haynes. "Well, doubtless you know that various plants belonging to different families produce free prussic acid. They are really cyanogenetic plants. Light and the assimilation processes depending on light exert a favorable influence on cyanogenesis. For instance, a mixture of citric acid with a much smaller amount of potassium nitrite and a trace of bicarbonate of iron, if exposed to light, will generate hydrocyanic acid. That, I believe, is what actually happens in some plant tissues. Animals rarely touch such plants. I believe that such a process might be aided rather than retarded by ultra-violet rays. What do you think of it?"
Craig was following Dr. Haynes keenly. As for me, I was astounded by his frankness. I recalled what Kennedy had already said up in Delaney's apartment, and watched his face covertly.
"Your explanation is plausible," was all that Craig said. "By the way, have you found out anything about the Baroness?"
"Not a word, yet," replied Haynes unhesitatingly. "She seems to be out of town."
"And madame—has she any idea where she is?"
Haynes shook his head. "You may rest assured," replied Haynes in a tone that was meant to carry conviction, "that if we can find out we shall be only too happy to do so—ourselves."
There was nothing to be gained by further inquiry here, and I could imagine that Kennedy was burning with anxiety to get at work on his own line of inquiry at the laboratory. After a few minutes of conversation we excused ourselves and left the hotel.
Craig's air of abstraction was not such as to invite further questioning, and I left him an hour or so later in the laboratory surrounded by his microscopes, slides, and innumerable test-tubes which he had prepared for some exceedingly minute investigation in which his exact soul delighted.
How late he worked I do not know, for I did not hear him come into our apartment. But he was up very early, in fact woke me up stirring around the living room.
I had scarcely completed dressing, while he scanned the morning papers in a vain hope that some stray news item might shed some light on the mystery in which we were now involved, when the whirr of our door buzzer announced that we had an unusually early caller.
Kennedy opened the door and admitted a stranger. He was one of those well-groomed middle-aged men whose appearance denotes with what care they seek by every means to retain youth that is fast passing. I could imagine him calmly calculating even his vices.
"My name is Ames—Ashby Ames," he introduced. "Dr. Leslie, the coroner, has suggested that I see you."
Ames looked as if he had been traveling all night and had not had a chance to freshen himself up in his haste.
"I've just heard about that trouble down at my apartment," he continued, "and, though I had planned a trip for my health to the southern resorts, I thought it best for me to come right back to New York. It's a beastly mess."
He had thrown his hat vindictively on the table, though his manner to us was rather that of one seeking advice. "Why," he stormed, "this affair is the limit! I rent my apartment to an apparently reputable person. And what do I find? It is not even a mere scandal. It is worse. The place is closed and guarded—quarantined, as it were. I can't get back into my own rooms!"
Kennedy smiled. "I can't blame you for feeling vexed, Mr. Ames," he soothed, "but I'm sure I don't know what I can do for you more than I am doing. We are making every effort to clear the thing up—and I have been on the case, you must remember, less than twelve hours."
"Oh, I've no criticism of you," rejoined Ames, somewhat mollified. "I didn't come here to criticise. I came only because I thought you might like to know that I was back in town, and because Dr. Leslie mentioned your name. No, indeed—no criticism. Only," he added, "now that my vacation is spoiled and I am back in town, there is going to be some action—that's all."
"It can't come too swiftly for me," encouraged Craig.
"I'm going to jump right into this beastly row," pursued Ames aggressively. "This morning I'm going to look these people up. They tell me that Baroness has been spending a good deal of time at my place. Pine business—eh? She's disappeared. But I'll get after that Haynes and the Madame Dupres they tell me about—and I'll let you know if I find out anything."
He had not given Kennedy a chance to say anything, and in fact Kennedy did not seem to want to say anything yet.
"Just thought I'd drop in," concluded Ames, who hadn't taken a chair, but now extended his hand to us; "I think I'll drop into a Turkish bath and freshen up a bit. Keep in touch with me."
We shook hands and Ames departed, bustling out as he had bustled in.
Kennedy looked at me and
