loor where the body had
been found that morning.

"Nothin' to it, Professor," said Brasher, "nothin' to it. Mr.
Miller used this room to write and read in and the next room for
sleeping. You see it is a sort of suite, with a bath room and
everything.

"This room is just as we found it this mornin' when we broke in.
Mr. Miller was lyin' on the couch there, the bed in the next room
is made up like the maid left it; it hadn't been slept in. He was
lyin' on his back with a hole in his temple--oh, you saw that. All
right.

"Well, his arm hung down over the edge of the couch, and the
revolver was on the floor where he dropped it. There was his
finger marks on it all right and no one else's. The gun is there,"
pointing to a table, among miscellaneous odds and ends, "and
nobody touched it. The door was locked from inside and so was the
window of the bedroom. They tell me he always slept with the door
and window locked."

"How did he get air during the night?" asked McCall.

"Through that." Brasher was standing on the threshold separating
both rooms and was pointing to the porthole in which was fixed a
circular fan. Brasher continued:

"We came here about eight o'clock, or mebbe a quarter after. Mr.
Miller used to get up very early. When he wasn't down for
breakfast this mornin' and the people down stairs knowin' he had
an appointment with Judge Higginbotham, they came up and called.
When there was no answer to their callin' and knockin' they called
us up.

"Me and another man from headquarters, we broke the door open and
we found him like I tell you. Doc Simpson says he was dead about
five or six hours when we found him. That makes it about three
o'clock when he kills himself. You see the servants had all gone
after dinner; gone to a movie. A shot fired in this room couldn't
be heard down stairs. I tried it.

"No, there's nothin' to it, Professor. It's a dead open and shut
case. Mr. Miller committed suicide, don't need any scientific
sharps to tell that."

Professor Brierly nodded absently. He was gazing about the room.
Then he walked to the library table, on which lay the revolver. He
stooped over it and turned to the detective.

"May I examine this weapon, Mr. Brasher?"

"Sure, help yourself."

"It is certain, Mr. Brasher, that there are no finger prints on
this weapon other than those of Mr. Miller?"

"That's certain. Our finger print man hasn't had the experience of
the big city men, but he's a good man