is. It may have to go farther than yours. Of course, you
realize that yourself."

"Eh? Ah--yes, yes!" said the other blankly.

"I expect our relations will be both amicable and of mutual benefit,"
continued Creighton cheerfully. "If I turn up anything good I'll let
you know, and I can hope for as much from you, can't I?"

"Er--well, I don't know about that." Norvallis looked pink and
uncomfortable as he began to fidget with the papers on the table. "I
don't know about that, Mr. Creighton. I may not feel free--er--no, on
the whole I think it would be preferable if we conducted our
investigations independently of each other. Yes, that would be
better!" He had an air of relief as he got that dictum off his chest.

"All right," agreed Creighton, still cheerfully. He surmised the
reason for the official's embarrassment, the police already knew, or
thought they knew, the identity of the murderer, and it was a secret
they proposed to guard jealously until they could cover themselves with
glory by making an arrest. He did not blame them in the least, and
accepted the rebuff good-humoredly. "As you please, Mr. Norvallis."

The two men by the window apparently had concluded their examination.
One of them sauntered over to the table and reported.

"Nothing much there, sir. There's a few prints made by the butler
opening and shutting the doors."

"Just as I expected," said Norvallis composedly. "Lucky we don't have
to rely on fingerprints in this case, Mr. Creighton."

"Found none at all?"

"Not one. I'll make you a present of that bit of news."

"Thank you for nothing," grinned Creighton, then added mischievously,
"Of course, before you can find fingerprints you have to know where to
look for them."

"Oh."

"Yes. You stick to that window and Varr's desk and the hilt of this
dagger--and leave the less obvious places to me."

"Indeed. I suppose it would be useless for me to ask you to designate
some of those less obvious places?"

"Quite useless," answered Creighton truthfully.

He was smiling over that as he excused himself and left the room. He
could not have answered the hypothetical question on a bet, for his
remark had been a chance shot simply intended to annoy. No one would
have been more surprised than himself to learn that this same shot
would develop the qualities of a boomerang.

He was stopped in the hall by a pale, gray-haired man whose trembling
hands betrayed the strain under whi