answer. "I went over them the other day and noticed some were missing,
though I saw them all when I paid a visit to her just a short time
before she was killed."

"Was this odd coin in her collection?" asked the colonel, as he looked
at the piece which Kettridge handed him. It was of considerable value
to a collector.

"That was hers," went on the jeweler. "It must have been taken from
her safe, for she had refused many offers to sell it. And now--"

"Now Harry King has it!" exclaimed Colonel Ashley. "I think this will
bear looking into!"




CHAPTER XIII

SINGA PHUT

Mr. Kettridge, his eyes big with unconcealed wonder as he looked at the
odd coin, was eager to accost Harry King at once and demand to know
whence the roysterer had obtained it. In, fact, the jeweler half arose
from his chair, to approach the three swaggering men in the cafe
section of the grill, when Colonel Ashley laid a restraining hand on
the shoulder of his new friend.

"It won't do now," he said gently.

"Why not? I've got to find out how he came by that coin! It's a rare
and valuable one I tell you. It's worth all of a thousand dollars to a
collector. Lots of them would be glad to pay more. Its catalogue
price is a thousand. And now this drunken fool has it! He
must--Colonel, don't you see what this means?"

"Yes, Mr. Kettridge, I can very easily see what it _might_ mean. But
King is in no condition now to approach on such a subject. There is a
saying that when the wine is in the wit is out, and it is generally
held, by some detectives, that then is the proper time to approach a
subject for information that would otherwise be withheld. But King is
in a sarcastic mood now, and sufficiently able to take care of himself
to be very suspicious if we began to question him, even under the guise
of friendship."

"I suppose so," agreed the jeweler, "and yet--"

"Oh, I wish I hadn't got into this!" suddenly exclaimed Colonel Ashley,
with almost a despairing gesture. "I started out for some quiet
fishing, which I very much needed, for I am getting too old for this
sort of thing. I ought never to have undertaken it! I'm almost
resolved to give it up. I believe I will!" he said suddenly, slapping
his hand on the table, at the sound of which a waiter hurried up.

"No--nothing now," went on the colonel, waving the man away. "Yes,
I'll give this case up!" he went on, with a sigh. "In the morning I'll
get Shag to lay out my rods and we'll go fishing. I was foolish to let
myself be dragged into this. It would have been all right five years
ago. But now--well, I'm through--that's all!"

Mr. Kettridge regarded his companion with amazement.

"But what can we do without you?" he asked. "Oh, I'll send you one of
my best men," was the answer. "I'll wire for Kedge. You can rely on
him. He's solved more cases like this than I can remember. Yes, I'll
send for Kedge. This is no place for me. I'm too old."

"Too old, Colonel?"

"Yes, too old! And I've grown too fond of fishing. Yes, I'll let
Kedge finish this up. And yet--"

The detective seemed to muse for a moment. Then he went on, half
murmuring to himself.

"No, hang it all! Kedge has that bank case to look after. Anyhow, I
don't believe he'd figure this out right. Oh, well, I suppose there's
no help for it, I've got to keep on now that I've started. But it's my
last case! Positively my last case!" and once more he banged his hand
down on the table.

Again the waiter glided up. He looked at the colonel expectantly, and
the latter stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"Oh, yes," went on the detective. "You may bring me--er--just a small
glass of claret--a very small one."

Mr. Kettridge gave his order, and then looked relieved. The colonel
had seemed very much in earnest.

"Do you suppose," asked the jeweler, "that Harry King could have had
anything to do with this case?"

"Of course it's possible, but, even so, we can easily make sure of him
and arrest him when we want him. To approach him now would only be to
defeat your own plan, that is if you have one. I confess this startles
me. I don't know what to make of it, and there's no use pretending
that I do. After all, detective work is the outcome of common sense
plus a sort of special intuition and knowledge. I have gotten to a
certain point, and now some of my theories are shattered. That is they


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