spread or the
trust companies stand up under it to-morrow after what happened to-day.
It was a good thing the market was closed when it happened.

"Kerr Parker was surrounded by a group of people who were in his schemes
with him. They are holding a council of war in the directors' room.
Suddenly Parker rises, staggers toward the window, falls, and is dead
before a doctor can get to him. Every effort is made to keep the thing
quiet. It is given out that he committed suicide. The papers don't seem
to accept the suicide theory, however. Neither do we. The coroner, who
is working with us, has kept his mouth shut so far, and will say nothing
till the inquest. For, Professor Kennedy, my first man on the spot found
that--Kerr Parker--was--murdered.

"Now here comes the amazing part of the story. The doors to the offices
on both sides were open at the time. There were lots of people in each
office. There was the usual click of typewriters, and the buzz of the
ticker, and the hum of conversation. We have any number of witnesses of
the whole affair, but as far as any of them knows no shot was fired, no
smoke was seen, no noise was heard, nor was any weapon found. Yet here
on my desk is a thirty-two-calibre bullet. The coroner's physician
probed it out of Parker's neck this afternoon and turned it over to us."

Kennedy reached for the bullet, and turned it thoughtfully in his
fingers for a moment. One side of it had apparently struck a bone in the
neck of the murdered man, and was flattened. The other side was still
perfectly smooth. With his inevitable magnifying-glass he scrutinised
the bullet on every side. I watched his face anxiously, and I could see
that he was very intent and very excited.

"Extraordinary, most extraordinary," he said to himself as he turned it
over and over. "Where did you say this bullet struck?"

"In the fleshy part of the neck, quite a little back of and below his
ear and just above his collar. There wasn't much bleeding. I think it
must have struck the base of his brain."

"It didn't strike his collar or hair?"

"No," replied the inspector.

"Inspector, I think we shall be able to put our hands on the murderer--I
think we can get a conviction, sir, on the evidence that I shall get
from this bullet in my laboratory."

"That's pretty much like a story-book," drawled the inspector
incredulously, shaking his head.

"Perhaps," smiled Kennedy. "But there will still be plenty of work for
the poli