and put his fingers on the
unconscious man's wrist. "Prussic acid or potassium cyanide is what the
appearances suggest," he replied.

"But can't you do anything?" demanded the inspector.

Thorndyke dropped the arm, which fell limply to the floor.

"You can't do much for a dead man," he said.

"Dead! Then he has slipped through our fingers after all!"

"He has anticipated the sentence. That is all." Thorndyke spoke in an
even, impassive tone which struck me as rather strange, considering the
suddenness of the tragedy, as did also the complete absence of surprise
in his manner. He seemed to treat the occurrence as a perfectly natural
one.

Not so Inspector Badger; who rose to his feet and stood with his hands
thrust into his pockets scowling sullenly down at the dead lawyer.

"I was an infernal fool to agree to his blasted conditions," he growled
savagely.

"Nonsense," said Thorndyke. "If you had broken in, you would have found
a dead man. As it was you found a live man and obtained an important
statement. You acted quite properly."

"How do you suppose he managed it?" asked Badger.

Thorndyke held out his hand. "Let us look at his cigarette-case," said
he.

Badger extracted the little silver case from the dead man's pocket and
opened it. There were five cigarettes in it, two of which were plain,
while the other three were gold-tipped. Thorndyke took out one of each
kind and gently pinched their ends. The gold-tipped one he returned;
the plain one he tore through, about a quarter of an inch from the end;
when two little white tabloids dropped out on the table. Badger eagerly
picked one up and was about to smell it when Thorndyke grasped his
wrist. "Be careful," said he; and when he had cautiously sniffed at the
tabloid--held at a safe distance from his nose--he added: "Yes,
potassium cyanide. I thought so when his lips turned that queer colour.
It was in that last cigarette; you can see that he has bitten off the
end."

For some time we stood silently looking down at the still form stretched
on the floor. Presently Badger looked up.

"As you pass the porter's lodge on your way out," said he, "you might
just drop in and tell him to send a constable to me."

"Very well," said Thorndyke. "And by the way, Badger, you had better tip
that sherry back into the decanter and put it under lock and key, or
else pour it out of the window."

"Gad, yes!" exclaimed the inspector. "I'm glad you mentioned it. We
might