THE ENCHANTED HAT
bachelor quarters that I succeeded in establishing my identity. The frayed envelope was vastly interesting to the police. They read it forward and backward, upside down, and even held it close to the fire to see if any sympathetic ink had been used in writing it.
"I guess Mr. Carewe's a well-meanin' chap, miss," volunteered the detective. "But this matter will need close attention. It looks like a tough proposition." He began to ply her with questions, but to no avail.
During the examination I vaguely wondered what the other fellow was doing with my coat.
The clock on the mantel struck half after midnight.
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