oke
with the same slow drawl which was characteristic of him. "You should be
accustomed to my eccentricities by this time, Harry."

"We are," announced Detective Ferguson from the hallway, where he and
Nelson had been silent witnesses of the scene. "And we'll give you a
chance to explain them in the police court."

"On what charge?" demanded Rochester.

"Poisoning your room-mate, Mr. Turnbull," replied the detective, drawing
out a pair of handcuffs. "You are mighty clever, Mr. Rochester. I've got
to hand it to you for your mysterious disappearances in and out of this
apartment, and for murdering Mr. Turnbull right in the police court in
the presence of the judge, police officials, and spectators."

Kent stepped forward at sight of the handcuffs and laid a restraining
hand on the detective's shoulder. Rochester saw the movement, guessed
Kent's intention, and smiled.

"We can settle the case here," he said cheerfully. "No need of troubling
the police judge. Now, Mr. Detective, how did I kill Jimmie Turnbull
before all those people without any one becoming aware of the fact?"

"Slipped the poison in the glass of water you handed him," answered
Ferguson promptly. "A nervy sleight-of-hand, but you'll swing for it."

Rochester's smile was exasperating as he turned to Dr. Stone.

"Judging from Stone's remarks about aconitine--which I overheard," he
interpolated. "I gather the doctor is tolerably familiar with the action
of the drug. Does aconitine kill instantly, doctor?"

Stone cleared his throat before speaking. "No; the fatal period averages
about four hours," he said, and Rochester's eyes sparkled as he looked
up at the detective.

"Jimmie died almost immediately after I handed him that drink of water,"
he declared. "If you wish to know who administered that aconitine
poison, you will have to find out who Jimmie was with at the McIntyre
house in the early hours of Tuesday morning."

The sharp imperative ring of the telephone bell cut the silence which
followed. Kent, standing nearest the instrument, picked it up, and
recognized Sylvester's voice over the wire.

"A message has just come, Mr. Kent," he called, "from Mrs. Brewster
saying that she will be in your office at four o'clock."

CHAPTER XIX. THE RED SEAL AGAIN

Harry Kent inserted his key in his office door with more vigor than good
judgment, and spent some seconds in re-adjusting it in the lock. Once
inside the office he put up the latch and clos