"Well, cracked, anyway," said Barron; "a crank."
"... And since there are five and ten cent [Transcriber's note: stores?] all over the town, and since he would naturally drop into the one nearest him, the inference is he lives somewhere in the vicinity of East 125th Street."
Barron nodded.
"The probability is, that he lives alone, eh? In a furnished room or cheap hotel. Because if he had a family, they, knowing he was queer, would keep a close watch on him. And he couldn't have any confederates, because no sane man would dare use a crazy man as a tool. It would be too dangerous."
"That was what I figured," said Barron.
Mme. Storey rose. "Well, we start square," she said. "And may the best man win!"
VIDuring the days that followed I sometimes blamed Mme. Storey in my mind for the appa
