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“’Fore Gawd!” gasped Joshua, “it’s Marse James—an’ he’s daid!”

“But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over

the butler’s shoulder”

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THE portières were pulled aside.

“Excellency, breakfast is served,” and the servant bowed deferentially toward a figure standing in the bow window. As the announcement reached his ears in the musical language of his native tongue, the Japanese Ambassador turned from the window and hastened into the dining room.

A small pile of letters lay beside his plate, and he opened and read them as he leisurely ate his breakfast. Tossing aside the last note, he picked up the morning Herald, and his eyes glanced casually over the page then stopped, arrested by a three-column heading:

SENATOR CAREW DEAD

A Mysterious Tragedy

Murder or Suicide?

The Ambassador pushed aside his plate and read the smaller type with growing interest.

“During the cloudburst of last night, when the heavens themselves seemed to threaten Washington, a most mysterious crime was committed in the fashionable Northwest. United States Senator James Carew, of Maryland, one of the most distinguished and influential men in political and official circles, was found dead in his carriage early this morning.