"I AM hard—to call?" I stammered.

"Certainly," said Semi Dual. "I desired to see you, so I sent for you. Why else have you come?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I was thirsty. I wanted a drink of that stuff of this afternoon. If you sent for me, I must have missed your messenger, Mr. Dual."

Again Semi Dual smiled dryly. "I hardly fancy you would evade, miss, or escape from my messenger," he said. "But you say you are thirsty: then let us go below."

"But I am disturbing you," I began. Now that I was here I felt like a fool. What sort of boy's trick had I been guilty of to thus break in on a man at peep of day?

"Not at all," protested Dual. "It is growing too light for me to work to the best advantage; besides, you are the next on the program. That was why I sent for you. I rather think I have found what I sought."

"Of course, you were studying the stars," I said. "One might think you a wise man of old, finding you like this."

"I was looking for a bad man of today, however," replied Dual.

"Looking for a man? In the stars? I thought the only man in the heavens was in the moon, and it's in the dark now."

"And yet," said Dual, smiling, "I found my man in the stars."

"Good Heavens!" I cried on the instant, as an idea burst in my brain. "Are you, then, an astrologer? I didn't suppose any one believed in that now."

"I believe in anything which is capable of a scientific demonstration, Mr. Glace," Dual said, as I thought somewhat coldly. "Suppose we go below."

He motioned me toward the stairway, and immediately followed me down.

We went directly into the chamber in which Semi Dual had entertained me that afternoon. He offered me a chair, then, excusing himself, passed through a door on the farther side of the apartment, saying he would return in a moment or two.

Left alone, I looked about the room, with a new interest in its furnishings, as the abode of the man who had met my morning intrusion with the air of something expected, and had even alleged that he had called me to him, at an hour when most persons might have been well in bed.

It was plainly, yet well furnished, carrying on the quality of quiet richness which I had noticed in the anteroom the afternoon before. Among other things I noticed what seemed to be a modified form of wireless receiving and sending apparatus. Also, there were several immense charts, seemingly of an astronomical nature, affixed to the wall.

A beautiful bronze female figure of life size stood at the side of his desk, holding an immense golden globe in her hand, from which poured forth a soft, mellow light. Casting back into my mythological education, I sensed it for a representation of Venus and her famous prize apple. As a work of art, it was superb.

Another thing which riveted my attention was a tall clock with a peculiar dial, showing the changes of seasons and months, the phases of the moon, days of the week, and months, and all sorts of things, as it appeared to me, besides the hours themselves. Truly, I began to feel that I was in the house of a most remarkable man; and then the door opened and the man himself appeared.

He was carrying a tray containing a couple of glasses and a small plate of cakes. These he deposited upon the desk, handed me a glass and a cake, and took the other glass himself.

"I will join you," he said, smiling. "After my night's work, I feel that it will do me good."

I lifted my glass and drank.

Again I experienced all the delight of the previous afternoon. I nibbled my cake; and I bethought me to apologize for my impulsive remark.

"Mr. Dual," I said, "I did not mean anything offensive when I questioned astrology a few moments ago; but I have always been led to think it a part of the superstitions of the Middle Ages. If I am wrong, I hope you will accept the statement as explaining my attitude."

Dual nodded, and set down an empty glass, wiping his lips.

"There were wise men in the Middle Ages, Mr. Glace," he began. "In fact, every age has had its percentage of those who knew the truth, and—the common mass. Sometimes they persecuted them, sometimes they crucified them, sometimes they burned them, sometimes—the exception, they listened to them—or at least a few did.

"I remember one instance, though it wasn't in the Middle Ages, when, had a noted man taken the warnings of an astrologer, he might have gone down to history as a benefactor, instead of a monster in human form."

"Then," said I, "am I right in supposing that astrology is an exact science, Mr. Dual?"

"One of the most exact in existence," my host replied. "It is in reality the earliest form of astronomy. If it were not a scientific fact, I would not care to waste time upon it. But I have proven it true; and right here let me give you some advice. Never accept anything for the truth unless it can be proven true, Mr. Glace; half the wars and sufferings of this world have come from unreasoning belief in fallacious facts."

"I wish you'd explain," I said.

Dual smiled. "An immediate application of my advice, eh?" he quizzed. "Very well, though I must be brief, as you have much more important things to attend to to-day. See here."

He rose and went over to one of the charts, picked up a long-bladed paper-cutter from the desk as he left his chair, and used it as a pointer for the chart. "Let me first ask you an elementary question of the common schools, Mr. Glace: 'What causes the rise, and fall of the tides?' " I felt his eyes upon me, and answered on the instant: "The moon."

"Quite right," said Dual. "Now, the moon is but an insignificant satellite of the earth, yet her magnetic influence affects the surface of the earth.

"The earth, in turn, is but one of a given number of planets revolving in the solar system of their sun. Each planet has a certain magnetic quality, which it radiates and which may be learned by observation. All these magnetic influences affect the earth, and are affected by the earth's own quality in turn.

"Now, if the moon admittedly affects the rise and fall of our tides—there was a foundation, in fact, for the superstition about planting seeds in certain phases of the moon, you see—why should we deny the effect of the other magnetic influences of the other planets equally upon the earth? There is no logical reason at all.

"Therefore, the fact of that influence remains. Given a certain part of the earth's surface, and a certain time, and a knowledge of the positions of the other planets, and what their individual quality is, and we can predicate the mean total of planetary magnetism operating on that point at that time."

His words impressed me, though against all my former training.

"It sounds plausible," I conceded as he paused.

"It is more than that; it is fact," smiled Dual. "Some day I shall prove it to you, Glace, but not now." He threw down the paper-knife and resumed his chair.

But I continued yet a moment with my questions.

"Then, with a given knowledge of the orbits of the planets, you could go farther, and predicate the influence at a certain point for a future time?" I inquired.

"Exactly," said Dual.

"Does the influence apply to human beings as well?"

"It does."

"Hence the soothsayers, Mr. Dual?"

"Rather the mathematical prognosticators, at whom ignorance scoffs," Dual replied.

"A rather nasty slap on the knuckles," I laughed. "What did you mean by saying you had sent for me?"

"The literal fact," Dual answered. "I did."

"Why?"

"I wanted to verify my own information by finding out what you had learned of the death of the woman in the Jason Street hotel."

Again I inquired: "Why?"

"Because," said Dual seriously, "I desire to see justice done. Not but what it would be in time, of course, but at times we may even rule Fate. Because I wanted to know if the suspicions of the authorities rests upon the right man; also, to prevent an injustice from being done."

"You talk as though you knew the guilty man!" I exclaimed.

"I know his general description," Dual responded. "I learned that to-night before you came. I need your assistance in finding him out; therefore, I called you, and you are here; now tell me what you know."

That was what I had come for. True, I had been distracted by the things which had occurred; but now, on the man's word, I was consumed with an eagerness to unburden my perplexed mind, and see if he could find any way out of the tangle of facts.

I began at the beginning, and went over all that had occurred. Now and then he interrupted with a terse question. For the most part, he sat with eyes closed, lying back in his chair, so that, save for an occasional slight quivering of his drooping lids, I might have fancied that he slept.

I ran over the finding of the body, the later conversation with the elevator operator at the hotel, the return to the room, and the finding of the papers and the note, the visit to Judge Barstow and his apparent attempt at evasion of any lengthy interview on the subject, what he had told us of the woman's history, the arrest of Wasson, and finally even my own peculiar sensations which terminated in my present visit to his rooms.

When I had quite finished, Semi Dual opened his eyes and sat forward in his chair. "Have you those notes with you?" he asked in a suddenly eager way.

"I have the genuine note which was on the papers under the carpet," I responded. "Of the girl's note I have only the carbon which I made."

"May I see them?" said Dual, extending his hand.

I got them out and passed them across to him, and turning his chair to the desk he quickly smoothed them out upon his blotter and began to pore over them intently, with an ever-growing interest.

"Dean said one might gain an idea of the writer's character from a sample of the handwriting—" I began speaking; but paused as I saw that my host was oblivious not only to my words but to my presence as well.

He had taken up a powerful lens and was going over the written lines word by word. Now and then he made a notation on a bit of paper lying upon his desk, and returned again to his study of the writing, each time more intent than before. The light of day was beginning to stream into the room, but the electrics over our heads still blazed on without his paying heed.

Far down below us I could hear the noises of the awakening world; the faint, faraway cries of newsboys, and the clang of the gongs of cars. But nothing disturbed in any way the concentration of the man at the desk. Presently, however, he made a last note, rose and turned off the lights, and came smiling back to his chair. "Mr. Glace, you are a most valuable assistant," he said.

"You find something of interest?" I inquired.

"Together we have found everything but the man's name," said Semi Dual.

"You mean you know his general description?" I cried.

"Precisely."

"But you can't. You say you don't know him. Then—"

"Why not?" interrupted my host, with his quiet smile.

"Well how could you—" I began.

"Mr. Glace," said Dual, "at the risk of appearing trite, I shall quote from my friend Shakespeare: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in thy philosophy—Gordon.'

"My ability to describe this man without having seen him, happens to be a small part of the same. Besides, you have furnished me a very valuable aid by your clever work in getting this specimen of his handwriting, you see. I told you I had gone well forward in tracing him before you came up here. Even at that time I knew his physical characteristics.

"Now, from the writing I may say I am fairly well acquainted with his mental qualities as well. Glace, the murderer did not intend to kill until his hands were actually about the woman's throat."

"Good Lord!" I gasped. "Have you read the papers? How did you know she was choked to death?"

Semi Dual shook his head. "I am right, am I not?"

"Yes—but—"

"I have not seen the papers," said Dual. "I seldom read those records of modern violence, except for some special end. To resume:

"After he had done the deed he was horrified at his act; but he resolved to escape from the penalty of the law if possible, which was natural, as we must admit. If I am correct in my suspicions of the identity of the man, he is not a natural criminal in the sense of being without a moral sense, but one who has a certain inherent weakness of moral fiber, which makes him the plaything of temptation at certain times.

"By the way, the fact that the girl had the bits of cuticle under her nails may prove a valuable clue. Somewhere in this town there is a man with some scratches on one of his hands, presumably the left, but, of course, you have thought of that."

"I considered it as a possibly important fact," I said.

"It will prove so," said Dual. "There is some motive for the man's act which as yet I have not fully worked out. I will find it after a while, and then we shall know why he acted as he did.

"Furthermore, while the idea of making the carbon copy of the girl's uncompleted note was good, still it leaves much to be desired. A great deal of her personality is indicated, but I wish I could have a line written m her own hand, for I suspect something even from the copy, which I would like to verify. Could you get me a note of hers, do you think? Wasson might have one, might he not?"

I sat as one in a trance listening to the man speaking thus intimately of persons of whom he claimed to have no personal knowledge, discussing their manners, dissecting their characters, with the coolness of a surgeon working over a case.

A feeling almost of the uncanny crept over me, which Dual seemed to sense, for he paused.

"Mr. Glace," he resumed, addressing a personal note to me alone; "you must bear with a great deal right now, which you cannot understand until you have learned a great deal. The child does not run, it creeps; neither does the blind man leap forward—he must feel his way.

"But believe me that all I say is capable of the fullest scientific proof; that I am looking at this thing from an absolutely impersonal standpoint, and working from mathematical hypothesis to mathematical conclusion, and you will lose the sense of the mystical which is affecting you now. In reality there is nothing mystical in all the universe of worlds. Everything obeys a universal law. Do you think we might obtain that note?"

I got up and went over to a window and looked out. I had to shake myself together a bit, but presently I turned to find Dual lost in a litter of papers which he had spread on the desk.

"Mr Dual," I said; "if you'll pardon the expression, I think you've got my goat." For the first time Semi Dual laughed out loud.

"I've been in the newspaper game for some years," I went on, "and I thought I had a fairly well-developed news sense; yet, after first telling me to go to this case yesterday afternoon, and getting me into a beautiful snarl of conflicting detail, you cap the climax by sitting here and talking as though you knew practically all about the thing from beginning to end. How you do, it gets me. However, I've got to be getting along. If you'll permit it, I'd like to see you again, sometime to-night."

Dual bowed and then tapped the sheets of paper upon his desk, which I saw were covered with a mass of mathematical formula and geometrical figures.

"Much of the explanation of what puzzles you, Mr. Glace, is here before you," he said.

I nodded perfunctorily. "No doubt," I replied, "but no matter how much I'd enjoy your explanation, I must get out and go to work on this case. I've got a hard day before me, I guess, Mr. Dual."

"But not before we have broken our fast," said Semi Dual, as he reached out and struck a small bronze bell.

I stood confused for a moment. The invitation was unexpected, and I opened my mouth to protest. Without looking at me directly Dual repeated his former remark in a different way. "You will breakfast with me," he stated, and I closed my mouth and resumed my chair.

The door on the far side opened and the servant appeared, coming in silently and waiting without a word. "Tempo mangi," said Dual, without raising his head from his figures, and the man disappeared. The whole thing might have been a photoplay figure save for those two spoken words.

" 'Tempo mangi'—'Time to eat,' eh?" I said, translating. "So you add Esperanto to your other advanced ideas, Mr. Dual?"

An expression of pleasure swept over the man's face. "Chu vi komprenas?" he replied.

But I refused the lure. "Only a little—a half-dozen words out of every hundred I hear."

"Yet it must come," said Dual. "The world needs a universal language. It would do much to remove international differences and misunderstanding.

"But come; before we eat we have some few things to do. Draw up your chair beside the desk, Mr. Glace, while I point out certain things which shall help you on your quest for the man you desire to find."

I drew in to the desk as he requested, and Dual picked up a sheet of his notes.

"To begin with, the murderer is a large man; he will stand approximately six feet tall; he is light-complexioned, hair a very light brown and thinning, eyes a blue-gray. He is broad-shouldered and should be possessed of great strength. He is clean-shaven, with a thin-lipped mouth and a rather prominent nose, and—" He paused and referred to some sheets of his calculations: "Yes, he has a scar of some sort on his left hip well up toward the ridge of the pelvic bones."

An irrepressible spirit of flippancy took possession of me. "Hasn't he a birthmark in the form of a horseshoe, in the middle of his back, where his grandfather was kicked by a hen?" I asked.

Semi Dual stiffened and sat erect; turned and looked straight through me in a long steady boring gaze.

Under the fire of his eyes I felt myself shrivel and writhe. I was again as a boy when caught in some culpability, which I had hoped to get by with, and been detected in the act. It seemed to me that to those eyes every little secret chamber of my brain lay glaringly revealed; almost I felt the impact of his glance against the inside of the back of my skull.

I tried to sustain it and could not endure. My eyes fell against my veriest striving, and I felt a blush of shame creep into my unaccustomed cheeks.

"Mr. Glace," said Semi Dual, very quietly, without any visible sign of surprise, offense, or other emotion, "it has always been the habit of ignorance to ridicule what it doesn't understand.

"I have been endeavoring to point out some facts which should be of material assistance to you in carrying through to a conclusion a case which the police will probably muddle at first. That I have no selfish interest in this should appear from the fact that I had intended before allowing you to leave me this morning to warn you against in any way mentioning my name or letting it appear that I know of the case in any sense; making my further assistance to you obligatory upon your agreeing to that one point.

"Perhaps, however, I have erred. What is worth having is worth seeking, and I am thus made aware of the fact anew. Shall we forget what has been said?"

I had brought it upon myself, and I knew it. I think I hung my head, but I did make out to reply.

"Yes. For goodness' sake, forget what I said, if you can. I feel like I used to when mother caught me stealing jam, or tying a can to a stray dog's tail. If you say any more I'll feel like the dog."

Dual's face illumined with his smile, and he raised a hand. "I admit it must all seem strange to you, Glace, but it is true. It is my intention to help you run this man down. You should gain some credit for a piece of work like that, don't you think?"

"If I only could," I cried, with sudden enthusiasm. "I don't think Smithson thinks such an awful lot of me, just now."

Dual nodded. "Very well," he said, "suppose I go on. I have indicated the man's physical characteristics to you. Now supposing he wrote the words of the note, found on the papers—"

"But, good Lord! Dual," I broke in, "Judge Barstow wrote that."

"Did he?" replied my companion. "Perhaps. As for that I do not care. Let us see what the character of the writing indicates. Lean over here closely and watch what I point out.

"To begin with, the writing is backhand; that would indicate a person of great self-interest, one in whom personal interest takes precedence of all other emotions, utterly selfish, usually insincere.

"Secondly, the writing is heavy. This, too, indicates a selfish person. Heavy writers are apt to be shrewd, and tricky, and revengeful, and will hesitate at little to gain their ends.

"Thirdly, the writing has the appearance of tapering off at the end of the words. Where the writing tapers decidedly as it does here, the writer is usually dishonest, not through innate criminality, but because of environment—opportunity, if you like.

"It is usually a matter of circumstance and temptation. Such people are not to be trusted in financial matters and are not to be believed, as they always allow circumstances to alter cases. They will keep a promise if convenient, and only then.

"Such a person is, therefore, not a criminal per se, but will probably do a criminal action if given a chance to make some personal gain, with small fear of being found out. They are the men who appropriate trust funds for private speculation, meaning at first to return them if they win in their venture. If they do not win, they thus become criminal through circumstance rather than from any deliberate choice. Am I plain?"

"In your statements, yes," I admitted. "But Barstow is a man of State-wide reputation for probity. How could what you say be true if—"

"We must have another sample of Barstow's writing," said Dual. "One of your tasks will be to get that to-day. Another will be to get to see Wasson, and find out if he has a note or letter from the dead girl.

"I want to see something in her original hand. This copy you have indicates a very unusual type. Be sure and try to get me that note. Get something from Wasson also, in writing. In these things you must not fail."

I rose to my feet, and stood by the desk. On the instant all the reporter's desire to run the thing to its outcome swept over me in a wave.

What did I care who was guilty, so long as I could find out? I resolved that I would take up the trail and know no rest until I held all the ends of the skein of events in my hand. "I will not fail," I told Dual.

"Good," said he. "I shall expect you this evening with interest, and now I think Henri is bringing the breakfast in."

I had heard no sound, but as he spoke a panel of the wall slid back, and through the aperture so left a table was rolled into the room. The panel slipped once more into place, and left us with our morning's meal before us laid out with white linen, napery, and glass. There was even a great bowl of fresh roses spilling over on the damask cover. I felt like rubbing my eyes.

Again Dual smiled. "Did my dumbwaiter surprise you?" he said as he moved toward the table. "Come, Glace, don't stand on any formality, for I know none. You are a hungry mortal, and have a great deal to do to-day. Draw up your chair, man, and fortify yourself for the day."

I accepted without delay, and sat down to a most appetizing array. Crisp brown toast and poached eggs, with golden coffee, and a tempting bowl of fresh fruits, but I hesitated when I saw that all this was upon my side of the table alone.

Seeing my confusion, Dual motioned me to begin.

"I told Henri to get the eggs and coffee, last night, after I was sure you would be here to breakfast," he said. "As for myself, I never eat anything save fruit for the morning's meal."

"Do you mean to say you knew I'd be here, last night?" I fairly gasped. I began to think this man's surprises would never cease.

"I mean just that," he replied.

"How did you know?"

"I desired it," explained Dual.

"Do you always get what you desire?"

"Generally," said my queer companion; "for you see I try to desire nothing which it is not perfectly lawful that I should have."

"Then there would be some things which even you couldn't get?"

"Scarcely that. I could get anything I might desire."

"Lawful or not?"

"Lawful or not, Mr. Glace."

"But you don't?"

"Some things are too high-priced," said Dual, munching away at a peach. "You must remember one pays for everything he has; if one acquires an unlawful desire or possession, the law still remains to be atoned."

I began to see what he meant. Truly there was a lot more in his philosophy than I had ever considered before; yet I quibbled a quibble as I chewed upon the last bite of toast. "If what you say is true," I questioned, "how is it, then, some men apparently do anything with impunity and get away with it?"

"Your question answers itself," said Dual. "Their impunity is only apparent. Look up their whole life-record, and you will find that they atone. Now, by way of speeding the parting guest, permit me to suggest that in your own terms of expression, you 'get busy.'

"Report to me here at ten o'clock, and by all means bring all the specimens of handwriting you can get. Find out everything you can, and we'll sort it out to-night."