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"
"Do you mind not talking to me for a minute?" said Average Jones
curtly.
"Told to hold my tongue in my own house by uninvited stripling,"
cackled the other. "You' re a singular young man. Have it your own
way."
After a five minutes' silence the visitor turned from the window and
spoke. "There has been a deadly danger loose about here for which
Professor Moseley felt himself responsible. He has killed himself.
Why?"
"Because I was on his trail," declared Mr. Curtis Fleming. "Afraid
to face me."
"Nonsense. I believe some human being has been killed by this
thing, whatever it may be, and that the horror of it drove Moseley
to suicide."
"Prove it."
"Give me a morning paper."
His host handed him the current issue of the Delineator.
Average Jones studied the local page.
"Where's Galvin's Alley?" he asked presently.
"Two short blocks from here."
"In the Golden Hill section?"
"Yes."
"Read that."
Mr. Curtis Fleming took the paper. His eyes were directed to a
paragraph telling of the death of an Italian child living in
Galvin's Alley.


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