n the jacket
when the button was pulled out."

"Which button was that?"

"The first one--the one you found in Number Five."

They started down the steps.

"You saw the scratches on Mrs. Withers' hand, didn't you?" said Bristow.

"Yes."

"Well, if Perry did the scratching, we can prove it. Any good laboratory
man can tell us whether the stuff that was under his nails contains
particles of the human skin, the epidermis. If those particles are found,
the case is settled, it seems to me."

"By cracky!" exclaimed Greenleaf, his admiration of his assistant
growing. "You've solved the problem--gone to the very bottom of it."

"What did Perry have to say? What was his story?"

"Oh, it amounted to nothing. Said he wasn't near Number Five; said he was
drunk last night and thought he was at the house of this Lucy Thomas all
the time."

"Then, the proof rests upon what the laboratory analysis of the finger
nail stuff shows. When can we get that report?"

Bristow was a little surprised by the embarrassment Greenleaf showed
before answering:

"We can get it tomorrow--by wire."

"Why can't we get it tonight--or tomorrow at the latest? The Davis
laboratory here can do the work. It does laboratory work for all these
doctors here."

"It can't do any work for me," objected Greenleaf stubbornly. "Dr. Davis
and I aren't on speaking terms, personally or politically. I'll send the
stuff down to a laboratory at Charlotte. It will reach there tomorrow
morning if I get it off on the midnight train. We can get the telegraphed
report on it late tomorrow or the day after."

"All right; I guess that will do," agreed Bristow.

As they started up the steps to the Fulton bungalow, Morley came out to
the porch and charged down toward them. His face was convulsed as if by
anger or fear. He did not seem to see the two men. Bristow caught him by
the arm and put the query:

"Where are you going, Mr. Morley?"

Morley shook off his hand and answered curtly:

"To Washington. I've barely got time to catch my train."

"Don't hurry," Bristow said with a touch of sarcasm. "You're too good at
missing trains anyway. Besides, we want to know what you did between
midnight and two-ten this morning, and why you failed to tell us this
morning that you didn't register at the Brevord until after two."

Morley's face went white.

"There wasn't anything to that," he explained. "I didn't mean to conceal
anything. I didn't go anywhere--anywhere spe