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Washington Square house! It was absurd in a grown woman. New York would always be a terrifying place to her. Why on earth had she ever left Japan?
    Eva flung herself down on one of Karen’s queer little couches. The room was so peaceful; it was a lovely place to think. Birds were chirruping in the garden – Karen’s sitting-room and bedroom occupied the entire back of the house, overlooking the garden – and the shouts of children in the Square were very far away … To think of Richard, and of being married … Eva wished for an instant that Richard – darling Dick – might be with her, in her arms. Poor Dick! He’d looked so surly – like a child denied its candy …
    There was no sound from the bedroom next door, no sound at all. Eva picked up a book from a little teakwood table and idly flapped its pages.
4
    At five-thirty by the ship’s New York chronometer the Panthia was slashing through a pleasant sea. It was growing dark beyond the eastern horizon, and Dr. MacClure lay in a deck-chair staring at the thin hazy line behind, where sky touched water fantastically.
    The open upper deck was deserted near the dinner-hour. But one young man, tallish and wearing pince-nez glasses under his linen cap, was weaving his way along the deck, occasionally stopping to elbow the rail and gaze accusingly at the placid sea. As he passed Dr. MacClure his face lightened from green to yellow.
    “Dr. MacClure!”
    The doctor’s head rolled around and he studied the young man’s face blankly for a moment.
    “Probably don’t remember me,” said the young man. “Name’s Queen. I met you in May, at your fiancée ’s garden-party in Washington Square.”
    “Oh, yes,” said Dr. MacClure, smiling briefly. “How are you? Enjoying the trip?”
    “Well …”
    “Had the most wretched time myself. Seasick since Southampton. Never have been able to stomach the ocean.”
    Mr. Queen grinned under his greenish mask. “You know, I’m the same way. Suffer the tortures of the damned. If I look as badly as you do, Doctor –”
    “Haven’t been well,” grumbled Dr. MacClure. “It’s not all mal de mer . My folks packed me off to Europe. Can’t say I feel any better for it.”
    Mr. Queen clucked. “Father in my case. Practically had me shanghaied. Inspector Queen of the New York police department. If I did feel any better, this westward passage has taken it all out of me again.”
    “Say! You’re the detective-story fellow. I remember now. Sit down, Mr. Queen, sit down. Haven’t read any of your stories – can’t stand the damned things – but all my friends …”
    “Have probably written me letters of complaint,” sighed Ellery Queen, dropping into the next chair.
    “I mean,” said Dr. MacClure hastily, “I don’t like detective stories. Not yours especially. Scientific information always garbled. No offence, you understand.”
    “That’s what I meant,” said Mr. Queen gloomily.
    He was rather shocked at the change in the doctor’s appearance. The chunky, powerful face was gaunt and the clothes looked pitifully loose.
    “Haven’t noticed you before,” said the doctor. “But then I’ve practically lived in this chair.”
    “I’ve been too sick to do anything but groan in my cabin and munch at dry chicken sandwiches. Been abroad long, Doctor?”
    “Couple of months. Poking around the capitals, seeing what was being done. Stopped over at Stockholm for a visit to the prize people. Had to apologize for forgetting to come, and all that. They were pretty decent about it, considering the size of the check.”
    “I read somewhere,” smiled Ellery, “that you donated it to your Foundation.”
    Dr. MacClure nodded. They sat in silence for some time, gazing out to sea. Finally Ellery asked: “Is Miss Leith with you?” He had to repeat the question.
    “Eh? I beg your pardon,” said the doctor. “Why, no, Karen’s in New York.”
    “I should think a sea jaunt would have done her good,” said Ellery. “She