nto the small writing-room which he had occupied during the
funeral. In the decision with which Sweetwater closed the door behind
them there was something which caused the blood to mount to the
coroner's brow.

"You have made some discovery?" said he.

"A very important one," was the quick, emphatic reply. And in a few brief
words the detective related his interview with the master mechanic's wife
on the highroad. Then with an eager, "Now let me show you something," he
led the coroner through the dining-room into the side hall, where he
paused before the staircase.

"Up?" queried the coroner, with an obvious shrinking from what he might
encounter above.

"No," was the whispered reply. "What we want is _here_." And, pushing
open a small door let into the under part of the stairway (if Ranelagh in
his prison cell could have seen and understood this movement!), he
disclosed a closet and in that closet a coat or two, and one derby hat.
He took down the latter and, holding it out to the light, pointed to a
spot on the under side of its brim.

The coroner staggered as he saw it, and glanced helplessly about him. He
had known this family all their lives and the father had been his
dearest friend. But he could say nothing in face of this evidence. The
spot was a flour-mark, in which could almost be discerned the outline of
a woman's thumb.

XIV

THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE

'S blood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy
could find it out.

_Hamlet_.

"The coat is here, too," whispered Sweetwater, after a moment of
considerate silence. "I had searched the hall-rack for them; I had
searched his closets; and was about owning myself to be on a false trail,
when I spied this little door. We had better lock it, now, had we not,
till you make up your mind what to do with this conclusive bit of
evidence."

"Yes, lock it. I'm not quite myself, Sweetwater. I'm no stranger to
this house, or to the unfortunate young people in it. I wish I had not
been re-elected last year. I shall never survive the strain if--" He
turned away.

Sweetwater carefully returned the hat to its peg, turned the key in the
door, and softly followed his superior back into the dining-room, and
thence to their former retreat.

"I can see that it's likely to be a dreadful business," he ventured to
remark, as the two stood face to face again. "But we've no choice. Facts
are facts, and we've got to make the best of them. You m