speech as well as his manner
indicated his sincerity, and the detective shook off his suspicions.
"Have you had any further news of your partner?" he asked.

"No; that is"--recalling the scene in the bank early that
afternoon--"nothing that relates to Rochester's present whereabouts.
Now, Ferguson, to put your charges against Rochester in concrete form,
you believe that he was insanely jealous of Jimmie Turnbull, that he
recognized him in the Police Court in his burglar disguise, slipped a
dose of aconitine in a glass of water which Turnbull drank, and after
declaring that his friend had died from angina pectoris, disappeared. Is
that all the case you have against him?"

"At present, yes," admitted the detective cautiously.

"All circumstantial evidence--"

"But it will hold in court--"

"Ah, will it?" questioned Kent. "There's one big flaw in your case,
Ferguson; the poison used to kill Turnbull."

"Aconitine?"

"Exactly. Your theory is that Rochester slipped the poison in the
glass of water on recognizing Turnbull in the police court; now, it is
stretching probability to suppose that Rochester, a strong healthy man,
was carrying that drug around in his vest pocket."

Ferguson sat forward in his chair, his eyes glittering. "Do you mean
to say that you think the murder of Turnbull was premeditated and not
committed on the spur of the moment?" he asked.

"The fact that aconitine was used convinces me of that," answered Kent.

Ferguson thought a moment. "If that is the case," he said, grudgingly,
"it sort of squashes the charge against Philip Rochester."

"It would seem to," agreed Kent. "But every shred of evidence I find
points to Rochester as the guilty man."

Ferguson edged his chair forward. "What have you discovered?" he
demanded eagerly.

"This," Kent spoke with increased earnestness. "That Philip Rochester is
apparently a bankrupt, that he has over-drawn his private account at the
Metropolis Trust Company, and withdrawn our partnership funds from the
same bank."

"Your partnership funds!" echoed the detective, eyeing Kent sharply.
"How did you come to let him do that?"

"I was not aware that he had done so until Mr. Clymer told me of the
transaction this afternoon," answered Kent.

"You did not know"--Ferguson looked at him in dawning comprehension.
"You mean Rochester absconded with the funds?"

"Some one forged my name to checks drawn on the firm's account," Kent
continued. "I understood t