his questioner; the latter's clear-cut features and
manly bearing inspired confidence. "We know of no motive," he corrected.

"And we know of no crime having been perpetrated," rapped out Kent.
"Come, man; don't hunt a mare's nest."

"Ah, but it isn't a mare's nest!" Ferguson remarked dryly.

Kent bent eagerly forward--"You have heard from the coroner--"

"Not yet," Ferguson jerked forward his chair until his knees touched
Kent.

Had either man looked toward the window near which they were sitting, he
would have seen a black shadow squatting ape-like on the window ledge.
As Kent leaned over to relight his cigar, the face at the window
vanished, to cautiously reappear a second later.

"The case piqued my interest," continued the detective after a pause.
"And I made an investigation on my own hook. After the departure of the
McIntyre twins and Coroner Penfield, I went back to the court room and
poked around the prisoners' cage. There I found this." He took out of
his pocket a small bundle and carefully unwrapped the oil-skin cover.

"A handkerchief?" questioned Kent as the detective did not unfold the
white muslin, but held it with care.

"Yes. One of the prisoners in the cage told me Turnbull dropped it as
Dr. Stone and the deputy marshal carried him into the ante-room. Smell
anything?" holding up the handkerchief.

"Yes." Kent wrinkled his nose and sniffed several times. "Smells like
fruit."

Ferguson nodded. "Good guess; I noticed the odor and went at once to Dr.
McLane. He told me the handkerchief was saturated with amyl nitrite."

"Amyl nitrite," repeated Kent reflectively. "It is given for angina
pectoris."

"Yes. Well, in this case it was the remedy and not the disease which
killed Turnbull," announced Ferguson triumphantly.

"Nonsense!" ejaculated Kent. "I happen to know that the capsules contain
only three minims--I once heard Turnbull say so."

"True, but Turnbull got a lethal dose, all right; and he thought he was
taking only the regular one. Devilishly ingenious on the part of the
criminal, wasn't it?

"Yes. Have you detected the criminal?" Kent put the question with
unmoved countenance, but with inward foreboding; the detective's
mysterious manner was puzzling.

"Not yet, but I will," Ferguson hesitated. "The first thing was to
establish that a crime had really been committed."

Kent bent down and sniffed again at the handkerchief to which a faint
fruity aroma still clung.

"How did you