e which this news elicited.
"How did you see her, then?"

"That is a long story, which you shall hear some other time. At present
she simply sent for me in a very quick and excellent manner, and I came
at once. The worthy Sergeant and his men followed.... Now, Sergeant,
place your men as I told you, and I'll get on to the business of
examination. I only want to get a rough idea of the true method of
death, and glean what clues I can for Mr. Narkom, who will arrive in the
morning.... And, gad!" He glanced up at the huge clock which was ticking
away the minutes and hours with sonorous voice. "It's getting on that
way now. Now, Sergeant, if you can get one of your men to give me a hand
with the body----"

Speaking, he moved it gently, until it lay half upon the pedestal
desk-top, so that the light shone full upon the ghastly face, and rolled
it tenderly over. There was a thin trickle of blood still oozing thickly
from the left side of the breast, where the fine puncture of some almost
needle-like instrument showed how successfully it had done its horrible
duty. Cleek tore away the coat and waistcoat, stripped back the shirt
from the frail body, and examined the wound through his little glass. In
size it was no more than what might have been caused by a heavy bodkin,
and in depth--so deep that it had no doubt punctured the inner walls of
the heart, and, if successful in this method, caused immediate death to
its victim.

He looked up quickly into Ross's downbent face, his own rather grim.

"A stiletto wound," he gave out in the sharp staccato of excitement.
"See that fine, clean-cut edge? I've seen similar ones in Italy and in
the southern parts of America. The blade's squarish, not flat as in the
cases of most daggers. And it is amazingly sharp. That blow would cause
a death-wound, undoubtedly. But I understand there was a shot fired as
well--from an air-pistol, I imagine, as there was no sound. Now, the
question is, where is that bullet, and from what direction was the shot
fired? That'll tell us a lot."

Ross Duggan's face changed suddenly, as though a shadow had passed over
it.

"That's the question, Mr. Deland," he replied in a tense voice. "If we
could find out that, we could find out a good deal. But why this double
crime should have been committed, Heaven alone can tell. My father had
many enemies--but none who would have stooped to kill him--of that I am
positive. And it is obvious that two have tried to do