discover that?" he asked.

"Dr. McLane and I took the handkerchief to a laboratory and the chemist
found from the number of particles of capsules in the handkerchief, that
at least two capsules--or double the usual dose--had been crushed by
Turnbull and the fumes inhaled by him; with fatal results."

"Hold on," cautioned Kent. "In the flurry of the moment, Turnbull may
have accidentally put two capsules in the handkerchief, meaning only to
use one."

"Mr. Kent," the detective spoke impressively, "that wasn't Turnbull's
handkerchief."

"Not his own handkerchief!" exclaimed Kent. "Then, are you sure that
Turnbull used it?"

"Yes; that fact is established by reputable witnesses; Dr. Stone,
Mr. Clymer, and the deputy marshal," Ferguson spoke with increasing
earnestness. "That is a woman's handkerchief--look at it."

Ferguson laid the little bundle on the broad arm of Kent's chair and
with infinite care folded back the edges of the handkerchief, revealing
as he did so, the small particles of capsules still clinging to the
linen. But Kent hardly observed the capsules, his entire attention being
centered on one corner of the handkerchief, which had neatly embroidered
on it the letter "B."

CHAPTER VI. STRAIGHT QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS

Colonel McIntyre, with an angry gesture, threw down the newspaper he had
been reading.

"Do you mean to say, Helen, that you decline to go to the supper
to-night on account of the death of Jimmie 'Turnbull?" he asked.

"Yes, father."

McIntyre flushed a dark red; he was not accustomed to scenes with either
of his daughters, and here was Helen flouting his authority and Barbara
backing her up.

"It is quite time this pretense is dropped," he remarked stiffly. "You
were not engaged to Jimmie--wait," as she attempted to interrupt him.
"You told me the night of the burglary that he was nothing to you.'"

"I was mistaken," Helen's voice shook, she was very near to tears. "When
I saw Jimmie lying there, dead"--she faltered, and her shoulders drooped
forlornly--"the world stopped for me."

"Hysterical nonsense!" McIntyre was careful to avoid Barbara's eyes; her
indignant snort had been indicative of her feelings. "Keep to your room,
Helen, until you regain some common sense. It is as well our friends
should not see you in your present frame of mind."

Helen regarded her father under lowered lids. "Very well," she said
submissively and walked toward the door; on reaching it