well charge the crime up to the spirits and
drop the case!" he said ironically. "No, Greig, we're not going on a
still hunt for murderous, disembodied shades. We're going after living
people--and we're not going very far. What puzzles you and the
clerks--how anyone managed to get to him and fire the shot--is so simple
that I'm surprised you're worrying over it. I have already solved that."

Greig stared at his superior in undisguised amazement.

"Why--er--how was it done?" he stammered.

In reply, Britz produced the needle which he had found at the feet of
the murdered man.

"Examine this and see if it doesn't solve the puzzle," he said.

Greig looked a long while at the long, thin, glistening instrument.

"There's blood half-way down from the point," he commented audibly. "But
I don't see what it explains."

"Of itself, it wouldn't mean much," admitted Britz. "But taken in
connection with the fully loaded pistol and the lack of powder marks
about the bullet wound, it explains fully why none of the men in the
office saw the murderer."

"But--but how do you figure it out?" asked Greig, more puzzled than
ever.

"I shall not reveal that at present," answered Britz. "It will help our
investigation to permit the murderer to believe that we don't know how
he got to Whitmore. From the statements we have obtained, it is evident
that conflicting interests are involved in the crime. We shall direct
our energies toward bringing these adverse elements into active
conflict, and, in the heat of battle, the murderer will be revealed."

They had reached Grand Central Station, and, luckily, had to wait only
ten minutes before boarding a train for Delmore Park. During the short
journey Britz fell into one of his deep silences, from which Greig did
not disturb him until the train drew into the Delmore Park station.

Lieutenant Britz was too experienced a detective to rush unprepared into
the home of the Collinses in the hope of obtaining incriminating
evidence. In fact, he had determined not to visit the Collins house, but
to devote himself to ascertaining something about the life and habits of
the man whose name figured so conspicuously in the present stage of the
investigation.

It was seven-thirty when the two detectives entered the home of the
village postmaster and revealed their identity. The postmaster, a
middle-aged, heavy-set man, appeared tired after his day's work. He was
familiar with all the gossip of the wealt