Hastily, Holmes made his way to the Packard, checking his jacket to make certain it had not caught on a bramble and left a shred behind.

At the Packard, he paused to catch his breath again. There were no clues whatsoever, except for the markings of his automobile tyres and footprints, which he hastily erased with the side of his shoe.

Holmes got into his Packard and backed the car out to the footpath, pleased in the knowledge that he had left an anonymous warning to the meddlesome Mayor Carter Harrison -and that the Everleigh Club and its lush inhabitants would live on to be constantly enjoyed by Dr Herman Holmes.

It had been a bad night and a mystifying morning for Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago.

The previous evening, as he had been readying himself for bed, the mayor had received an excited telephone call from Karen Grant at the City Hall office.

'I just heard from Gus Varney, and it is good news,' she had cried out. 'He telephoned me from somewhere to report – these were his words as I remember them – "Very good news. Tell the mayor. I'll see you." When I told him I'd notify you, he said, "Tell him not to rush." Gus said it would take him at least an hour, because he had to make another stop before coming in, and he couldn't explain.'

'Why the delay?' Harrison had wanted to know. 'What's keeping him?'

'He just wasn't able to explain,' Karen had repeated. 'But he made it clear he would be here in an hour to tell you what he found out about the Everleighs. He insisted that what he had found out was what you wanted.'

'Perfect!' the mayor had exclaimed, fully awake and with rising enthusiasm. 'I'll get dressed and be over in less than an hour.'

Harrison had joined Karen Grant in his office, and together they had waited for the appearance of Gus Varney. Half an hour had passed, then two. Eventually it was after midnight, and still no Gus Varney.

By one o'clock in the morning the mayor had become discouraged. 'I don't know what could have happened to him.'

Karen had tried to soothe the mayor. 'I'm sure it is that stop he had to make. Whatever it was, that must have delayed him. Why don't you go home and catch some sleep? I'll remain here for another hour. Don't worry, Mayor, I'm sure Gus will turn up.'

The mayor had gone home. After another hour, Karen had called it quits and also gone home.

Now it was just before noon on the following morning, and Gus Varney had not turned up with his good news.

They had waited in the executive office, Harrison and Karen, from eight-thirty until twelve. Varney had not appeared and there had been no further word from him.

At last the mayor threw up his hands in despair. 'I don't like this,' he told Karen. 'I'm worried that something happened to him, something I don't like to think about.'

'But what could happen?' Karen wondered aloud.

'We'll find out. I'm going to start checking around. Karen, call the chief of police for me.'

'You mean Francis O'Neill?'

'Himself. Get him on the telephone right now.'

Karen moved to the telephone, gave the operator the number for the main police station downstairs in City Hall, and waited. When someone answered, she stated that she was calling for Mayor Carter Harrison, who wished to speak to the chief of police immediately.

After a short wait, Karen spoke into the phone. 'Chief O'Neill?'

'Yes?'

'This is Mayor Harrison's office. I'm calling for the mayor. He wishes to speak to you on an urgent matter.'

'Put him on,' said Chief O'Neill.

'Here he is.'

Karen handed the telephone to Mayor Harrison, who was now seated behind his desk.

'Chief,' said the mayor, 'there's something troublesome I want to discuss with you.'

'I'm listening.'

'Yesterday I assigned one of my aides, Gus Varney, to go out on an investigation. When he completed that investigation around ten o'clock, he telephoned my secretary and told her that he had good news for me. He told her he was on his way to City Hall to report to me. Oh yes, he had one stop to make following his phone call, and then he was proceeding to City Hall to report to me. Well, he never showed up. I waited three hours last night. No show. Then, from early this morning I expected Varney. He never appeared.' Harrison paused. 'Chief, I don't like this.'

'Was Mr Varney generally reliable?'

'Totally so. The most punctual person on my staff.'

'Well,' said the chief, 'he could have suffered an attack of amnesia. It happens, you know.'

'Not often, Chief.' At last Harrison spoke what was on his mind. 'Chief, I suspect something worse.' He hesitated. 'Were there any suspicious or fatal incidents this morning?'

'I haven't heard of any from our other police districts. In this district we had only one this morning. There was identification, but it wasn't Varney. The corpse had a calling-card in his wallet. A man named Jack Simon, president of some beer company in St Louis.'

Harrison gasped. 'Chief, I had that card printed for Varney as a cover.'

There was a brief silence. 'Then it's your Mr Varney we have in the morgue.'

'You're sure?'

'Absolutely. You'd better come over to the County Hospital for positive identification.'

Harrison shuddered. 'I'll be right over,' he said.

They left the coroner in the morgue, and after closing the door, Mayor Harrison and Chief O'Neill stood in the hallway, their eyes meeting.

'You're certain?' the chief asked once more.

Mayor Harrison's face was ashen. 'It's Varney in there, all right. But he looks practically alive. No injuries. What was it the coroner told us? Suffocation?'

'Yes, asphyxiation. I'm sorry about your loss, terribly sorry.'

'How could that have happened?'

'Many ways. Anything from someone holding a pillow over his face to someone gassing him.'

'Incredible.'

'Mayor,' said the chief, 'if you want us to be of help, you'd better give us more facts. You sent Varney on an investigation. He completed it successfully and was about to report to you when he was interrupted and murdered. You want to tell me what that's all about?'

'It would have to be strictly between us.'

'You know you're safe with me, Mayor,' said the chief.

The mayor, lost in thought, took a few short steps down the corridor, then stopped and turned to face the chief of police.

'All right,' said Harrison, 'I can't let anyone get away with this. I'll tell you the whole thing. You know I ran for reelection on a reform ticket. I said I wanted to close down all those whorehouses in the First Ward. My prime target was the Everleigh Club, because it's the best known. But the Club's been claiming it's no longer a brothel. Only a restaurant.'

'Fat chance,' said the chief with a snort.

'Exactly. Yet I had to have proof it was still a whorehouse before I could ask you to close them down.'

'I'm afraid so,' agreed the chief.

'I did what I could. I decided to work from the inside for evidence. Varney volunteered to go into the Everleigh Club, posing as a beer company president from St Louis. He was to have supper there with one of the girls, then go to bed with her. Well, he called in to my secretary and announced he had succeeded. He was on his way with the evidence when… when he disappeared.'

The chief nodded. 'Then we have a lead. We go to the Everleighs and put pressure on them. We tell them the truth and extract a confession.'

'That they themselves murdered Varney or had someone else do so on their behalf?'

'Why not?'

'It doesn't make sense,' said Harrison. 'I'm a fairly astute student of human nature. True, I've never met the Everleighs, but I know a good deal about them. They're two young and genteel Southern ladies. There has never been an instance of violence attached to their operation.'

'Well, if you ever happened to learn that you were about to be shut down, be put out of business, you might feel a little violent. I still say that's where we start.'