en, presently, Cassidy
entered the office, and made report of his investigations concerning the
pistol with the silencer attachment.

"I got the factory at Hartford on the wire," he explained, "and they
gave me Mr. Maxim himself, the inventor of the silencer. He said this
was surely a special gun, which was made for the use of Henry Sylvester,
one of the professors at Yale. He wanted it for demonstration purposes.
Mr. Maxim said the things have never been put on the market, and that
they never will be."

"For humane reasons," Demarest commented, nodding approbation.

"Good thing, too!" Burke conceded. "They'd make murder too devilish
easy, and it's easy enough now.... Well, Cassidy?"

"I got hold of this man, Sylvester," Cassidy went on. "I had him on the
'phone, too. He says that his house was robbed about eight weeks ago,
and among other things the silencer was stolen." Cassidy paused, and
chuckled drily. "He adds the startling information that the New Haven
police have not been able to recover any of the stolen property. Them
rube cops are immense!"

Demarest smiled slyly, as the detective, at a nod from his superior,
went toward the door.

"No," he said, maliciously; "only the New York police recover stolen
goods."

"Good-night!" quoth Cassidy, turning at the door, in admission of his
discomfiture over the thrust, while Burke himself grinned wryly in
appreciation of the gibe.

Demarest grew grave again, as he put the question that was troubling him
most.

"Is there any chance that young Gilder did shoot Griggs?"

"You can search me!" the Inspector answered, disconsolately. "My men
were just outside the door of the room where Eddie Griggs was shot to
death, and none of 'em heard a sound. It's that infernal silencer thing.
Of course, I know that all the gang was in the house."

"But tell me just how you know that fact," Demarest objected very
crisply. "Did you see them go in?"

"No, I didn't," the Inspector admitted, tartly. "But Griggs----"

Demarest permitted himself a sneer born of legal knowledge.

"Griggs is dead, Burke. You're up against it. You can't prove that
Garson, or Chicago Red, or Dacey, ever entered that house."

The Inspector scowled over this positive statement.

"But Griggs said they were going to," he argued.

"I know," Demarest agreed, with an exasperating air of shrewdness; "but
Griggs is dead. You see, Burke, you couldn't in a trial even repeat what
he told you. It's not p