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"Rather well. I saved him from drowning once some years ago, and he hasn't forgotten it. It was at a summer resort, and Spotty, though he is a good swimmer, didn't estimate the force of the undertow. I pulled him out just in time."

"Strange," murmured the colonel. "A strange coincidence."

"I beg pardon," said Harry politely.

"Oh, nothing," went on the detective. "Only, as it happens, Spotty saved my life some time ago. It's just a coincidence, that's all. So Spotty gave you my address, did he?"

"Yes. I had called at your New York office, and, as you say, your clerks had orders not to disclose your whereabouts. I used every cajolery and device of which I was master, but it was no avail. I urged the importance it was to myself and others to know where you were, but they were obdurate. I was coming out, much disappointed, when I saw Spotty emerging from an inner office. He knew me at once, though it is years since we met, and going down in the elevator I mentioned that I was looking for you. I told him something of the reason for wanting to find you and - Well, he told me you were here."

"And he is about the only person in New York outside of my most confidential man who could have done that," observed the colonel, as he slowly reeled up his line. "One reason why the clerks in my office could not give you my address was because they did not have it. So Spotty, who must just have finished his bit, told."

"But please don't hold that against him," urged Bartlett. "If he violated a confidence - "

"He did, in a way, yes," observed the disciple of Izaak Walton. "But I shall have to forgive him, I suppose. It must have been rather a strong reason that induced him to tell you where I had gone."

"It was, Colonel Ashley, the strongest reason in the world. It is to help clear up the mystery - "

"Stop!" fairly shouted the colonel. "If it's a detective case I don't want to hear it! Not a word! Shag, show this gentleman the door - I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to be rude," went on the colonel with his usual politeness. "But I really can not listen. I came here to rest and fish, not to take up new detective cases. You know where my office is. They will attend to you there. I have given up business for the time being."

"And yet, Colonel Ashley, the person who sent me will have no one but you. She says you are the only one who can get at the bottom of the puzzling case."

In spite of himself the colonel's face lighted up at the words "puzzling case," but as his eyes fell on the creel containing his fish he turned aside. "No," he said, "I am sorry, but I can not listen to you. Shag, kindly - "

Harry Bartlett was not a successful business man for nothing. He knew how to make an appeal. "I came to see you at the request of Miss Viola Carweil," he said slowly. "She sent me to find you - told me not to come back to her without you. A change came over the colonel's face at the mention of Viola's name.

"You came from her - from the daughter of Horace Carwell?" he asked quickly.

"I did," answered Bartlett.

"Well, of course, that might make a difference. I hope my old friend is not in trouble - nor his daughter," and there was a new quality in the voice.

"Mr. Carwell's troubles are all over - if he had any," returned Bartlett simply.

"You mean - "

"He is dead."

The colonel uttered an exclamation.

"Pardon my rather brusk reception of you," he apologized. "I did not know that. Was it recently - suddenly?"

"Both recently and suddenly."

"I did not know that I seldom read the papers, and have not looked at one lately. I had not heard that he was ill."

"`He wasn't, Colonel Ashley. Mr. Carwell died very suddenly on the Maraposa Golf Club links, after making a stroke that gave him the championship."

"Heart disease or apoplexy ?"

"Neither one. It was poison."

"You amaze me, Mr. - er - Mr. - "

"Bartlett. Yes, Mr. Carwell died of poison, asthe autopsy showed."

"`Was he - did he - "

"That is what we want to find out," interrupted the messenger eagerly. "The county physician says Mr. Carwell is a suicide. His daughter, Miss Viola,