see that the knot in Perry's
rope is artistically tied--and that's not appetizing."

"I've got something new," Greenleaf contributed; "but you're right. We'll
wait until after dinner."

They were greatly pleased with what they had accomplished; and each one,
without giving it voice, knew the other's pleasure was increased by the
thought that they had got the better of Braceway.

They saw from the porch that an automobile was standing in front of
No. 5. As they settled back in their chairs, Fulton and George Withers
left the bungalow and got into the machine.

"They're going to take the body to Atlanta on the four o'clock," said
Greenleaf.

For a moment they watched the receding automobile. Then Bristow inquired,
"What's the new thing you've dug up?"

"The report from the Charlotte laboratories."

"Oh, you got that--by wire?"

The lame man seemed indifferent about it.

"Yes; by wire," Greenleaf paused, as if he enjoyed whetting the other's
curiosity.

Bristow made no comment. He gave the impression of being confident that
the report could contain nothing of value.

"You ain't very anxious to know what it is," the chief complained. "I
nearly had a fit until it came."

"Oh, it doesn't matter much, one way or the other," Bristow said,
conscious of Greenleaf's petulance. "The thing's settled anyway."

"That may be true; but it don't do any harm to get everything we can. The
laboratory reported what you thought they'd report. Nothing under Miss
Fulton's nails; particles of a white person's skin, epidermis, under
Perry's."

Bristow laughed pleasantly, his eyes suddenly more alight.

"I beg your pardon, chief; I was having a little fun with you--by
pretending indifference. But it's great--better than I'd really dared
expect. It's the only direct, first-hand evidence we can offer showing
that the negro, beyond any dispute, did attack her."

He laughed again. "Let's see the wire."

"I guess it settles the whole business," Greenleaf exulted, passing him
the telegram.

He read it and handed it back.

"After that," he commented, "I'm almost tempted to throw away what I had
to show you; its importance dwindles."

"What is it?"

"A confession by Lucy Thomas that Perry went to Number Five the night,
rather the morning, of the murder."

"You got that--from her!" exclaimed Greenleaf.

"Yes--signed."

"Mr. Bristow, you're a wonder! By cripes, you are! My men couldn't get
anything out of her. Neither could