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"You know this man?" asked the lieutenant.

"Yes," she replied. "His name is Torrance. I have seen him a number of times in

the past year. He worked as a clerk in a store, in the hosiery department, and

waited on me there. Later I"--she hesitated--"I saw him in a place called

Feinheimer's. He was a waiter. Then he was a sparring partner, I think they call

it, for a prizefighter. Some of my friends took me to a gymnasium to see the

fighter training, and I recognized this man.

"I saw him again when he was driving a milk-wagon. He delivered milk at a

friend's house where I chanced to be. The last time I saw him was at my father's

home. He had obtained employment in my father's plant as an efficiency expert.

He seemed to exercise some strange power over father, who believed implicitly in

him, until recently, when he evidently commenced to have doubts; for the night

that the man was at our house I was sitting in the music-room when they passed

through the hallway, and I heard father discharge him. But the fellow pleaded to

be retained, and finally father promised to keep him for a while longer, as I recall

it, at least until certain work was completed at the plant. This work was

completed yesterday. That's all I know. I do not know whether father discharged

him again or not."

Harriet Holden had accompanied her friend to the police station, and was sitting

close beside her during the examination, her eyes almost constantly upon the

face of the prisoner. She saw no fear there, only an expression of deep-seated

sorrow for her friend.

The lieutenant was still asking questions when there came a knock at the door,

which was immediately opened, revealing O'Donnell with a young woman, whom

he brought inside.

I guess we're getting to the bottom of it," announced the sergeant. "Look who I

found workin' over there as Compton's stenographer."

The Efficiency Expert