of one
eyebrow, "here I am, so I might as well get to work." He looked about.
"Where is the body?"

"In the room just across the hall," said Osborne.

"Just so." Dr. Shower looked at the young man and the young woman. "And
these are--?"

"The son and daughter of the murdered man," answered the detective.

"To be sure." Shower smoothed his waistcoat with the same firm gesture.
"Of course." Then to the young man: "Am I right in understanding that
your father did not reside here?"

The young man laughed suddenly; the sound was unexpected and full of
bitterness, and caused Bat Scanlon to look swiftly toward him.

"Yes, you are quite right in that," said the son. "Quite right! My
father did _not_ live here."

There was a feeling behind the words that was not to be mistaken; and a
slight pucker appeared between the eyes of the assistant coroner which a
person well acquainted with him would have told you indicated increasing
interest.

"You are reported to have said to the police sergeant," stated Dr.
Shower, referring to some memoranda scribbled upon the back of an
envelope, "that the relationship between your father and yourself has
not been an agreeable one."

"There has been no relationship between my father and myself--none
whatsoever--for a number of years."

There was a gleam in the eyes of the speaker and a shaking quality in
his voice which showed intense feeling; the thin hand of his sister
rested upon his arm for an instant; he looked at her quickly, and then
bent over while she whispered something in a tone so low that none of
the others could hear a word.

"Very well, Mary," he said. "It's all right. Don't worry."

"What you say being the case," said Dr. Shower, "your father would not
be likely to be a frequent visitor."

"We've lived here for five years; he was never here before. Up to last
night I had not seen him for at least seven years."

"Humph!" The pucker between the assistant coroner's eyes deepened; he
took a firm clutch upon his beard. "Then the visit of last night was
quite unusual--unique, I might say."

"He was the last person in the world I expected to see," said the young
man. "I did not get home until late. I had a cartoon to do for the
sporting page and ideas were not flowing very easily; my usual train is
at eleven-ten, but I was held up until the twelve-twenty-two. As I came
down the street I saw a light burning in the sitting-room window; but I
thought my sister was waitin