You say," said he to Osborne, "that the scrubwoman unlocked the
street door. Very good. That shows that _it_ was fast at all events.
Now what other means are there of entering the building?"

"None, except by the fire-escapes and windows. But the windows on this
floor are all secured except for those at the front."

"Except for those at the front." The young coroner paused in his hand
rubbing. "Would it not have been possible for the person or persons
who did this murder to enter by one of those?"

"It would have been possible," returned the big headquarters man, "but
no sane person would do it. They'd have to swarm up the face of the
building in full view of anyone that might be passing at the time."

"Exactly," said Stillman, stiffening under what he was half inclined
to consider a rebuff. "Well, that eliminates _that_ possibility. Now
to the next one. Who occupied the building besides the murdered man?"

"A man named Berg keeps a delicatessen store on the first floor. His
place in no way communicates with the rest of the building. The third
and fourth floors are used for storage purposes by a furrier. Except
in the spring and fall, so Mrs. Dwyer tells me, he seldom visits the
building."

"Is there any way of getting in from the top of the house--the roof?"
asked the coroner.

A look of something like respect came into Osborne's face. Clearly the
question was one which he considered worth while.

"There is a scuttle," he replied. "The bolt is rusted and broken; it
has probably not been fastened for months, perhaps years."

"Now we are beginning to come at something," cried Stillman, well
pleased. "In all probability the assassin entered by way of the
scuttle." He turned as though for the approval of the stolid-faced
man. "Eh, Curran? What do you think of that?"

"It looks very like it, Mr. Stillman."

"At all events," spoke the coroner, "we will now examine the rooms."

He advanced and tried the door of the show room.

"Ah, locked!" said he. He turned and entered the store room, the
others following. The gas was still burning; the coroner stuck a pair
of big-lensed eyeglasses upon his rather high nose and gazed about him
intently.

"There seems to be nothing of an informing nature here," said he,
after a time. "Where is the body?"

Osborne led the way into the front room. After a glance at the
ghastly, huddled figure upon the carpet near the desk, the coroner
took a careful survey of the apartment.