dead friend. I
remembered Philip Vantine as I had always known him--a kindly, witty,
Christian gentleman. I could see his pleasant eyes looking at me in
friendship, as they had looked a few hours before; I could hear his
voice, could feel the clasp of his hand. That such a man should be
killed like this, struck down by a mysterious assassin, armed with a
poisoned weapon....

A woman! Always my mind came back to that. A woman! Poison was a
woman's weapon. But who was she? How had she escaped? Where had she
concealed herself? How was she able to strike so surely? Above all,
why should she have chosen Philip Vantine, of all men, for her
victim--Philip Vantine, who had never injured any woman--and then I
paused. For I realised that I knew nothing of Vantine, except what he
had chosen to tell me. Parks would know. And then I shrank from the
thought. Must we probe that secret? Must we compel a man to betray
his master?

My face was burning. No, we could not do that--that would be
abominable....

The door opened and Godfrey came in. This time, he was not alone.
Simmonds and Goldberger followed him, and their faces showed that
they were as shaken and nonplussed as I. There was a third man with
them whom I did not know; but I soon found out that it was
Freylinghuisen, the coroner's physician.

They all looked at the body, and Freylinghuisen knelt beside it and
examined the injured hand; then he sat down by Dr. Hughes, and they
were soon deep in a low-toned conversation, whose subject I could
guess. I could also guess what Simmonds and Godfrey were talking
about in the farther corner; but I could not guess why Goldberger,
instead of getting to work, should be walking up and down, pulling
impatiently at his moustache and glancing at his watch now and then.
He seemed to be waiting for some one, but not until twenty minutes
later did I suspect who it was. Then the door opened again to admit a
short, heavy-set man, with florid face, stubbly black moustache, and
little, close-set eyes, preternaturally bright. He glanced about the
room, nodded to Goldberger, and then looked inquiringly at me.

"This is Mr. Lester, Commissioner Grady," said Goldberger, and I
realised that the chief of the detective bureau had come up from
headquarters to take personal charge of the case.

"Mr. Lester is Mr. Vantine's attorney," the coroner added, in
explanation.

"Glad to know you, Mr. Lester," said Grady, shortly.

"And now, I guess, we're