Kee Moore was a tall, dark man, about thirty-five or so. But when he undertook a case, or even thought about undertaking a case, he seemed to change his personality. Rather, he intensified it. He seemed to be taller, darker and older.

I saw this change come over him at once, as he listened to the police detective’s words.

There is a phrase about an old warhorse scenting the battle. I’ve never seen such a thing, but I am sure it implies the same attitude that Moore showed at the moment. His eyes took on a far-away look that was yet alert and receptive. His hands showed strained muscles as he grasped the back of a chair that stood in front of him. His lips lost their smiling curve and set in a straight line. I knew all these gestures well, and I knew that not only would he take up this case, but that he was anxious to get at it at once.

Lora knew it, too, and I heard her sigh as she resigned herself to the inevitable. It wasn’t necessary for any of us to say we had hoped Kee was to have a rest from his work, an idle vacation. The two Moores and I knew that, and we all knew, too, that the vacation was broken in upon and there would be no rest for the busy, inquiring brain until the Tracy case was settled for all time.

“I don’t know about accepting this offer of Mr. Ames to engage my services,” Kee said, “but I will most certainly look into the matter and if I can be of help we can make definite arrangements. Tell me a little more of the circumstances, please, and then we will go over to Pleasure Dome.”

“It seems the butler or housekeeper was in the habit of taking tea to Mr. Tracy’s room of a morning, at nine o’clock. Well, this morning, the door was locked and nobody responded to knocks on it. So—you can get the connecting data later, sir—they broke in, and found Mr. Tracy dead in bed, with the strangest doings all about.”

“What do you mean by strange doings?”

“Well, he was all dolled up with flowers and a long red scarf, and, if you please, a red feather duster sticking up behind his head——”

“Did you see all this?” demanded Moore, his eyes growing darker every minute.

“Yes, and that’s not half! There was an orange in his hand and crackers on his pillow and a crucifix against his breast——”

“Come on,” said Moore, quietly, but in a tone of suppressed excitement. “Let’s get over there before they disturb all that scenery! I 

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