ers nodded approval of the remark.

"I began to examine that chair and its surroundings carefully,"
continued Marsh, ignoring the interruption. He then moved over to
the chair, and added, as he pulled it to one side, "I moved it away
like this. Now, look at the floor!"

The policemen crowded forward. What Marsh had found was apparent at
once. On the light background of the rug was a large, dark spot
which the chair had covered. The plain-clothes man stooped and
placed his hand on the spot. It felt damp to the touch, and as he
stood erect again, holding his hand under the light, they all saw
that the fingers were covered with a thin film of red.

"Blood!" cried Murphy.

"Yep," affirmed the plain-clothes man. "Fresh blood!"

Excited exclamations from the others showed their appreciation of
the discovery.

Marsh smiled.

"I guess that looks like a possible murder," he said.

"The chair was placed there to cover the spot, all right," now
admitted the plain-clothes man.

"But what became of the body?" again questioned Murphy.

"As I said before," Marsh answered him, "that is for you to find
out. It is not my business."

"SOME mystery!" exclaimed the plain-clothes man. "This is a job for
Dave Morgan."

CHAPTER II

DETECTIVE SERGEANT MORGAN

On Sheffield Avenue, just across from the ball park, where the
"Cubs," Chicago's famous baseball team, has its headquarters, is a
row of apartment houses. One realizes, of course, that these are not
homes of wealth, but they have a comfortable, substantial look,
which somehow conveys the idea that those who live there are good
citizens, typical of the hard-working, progressive class that has
made Chicago one of the greatest commercial cities of the world.

In one of these apartments lived Detective Sergeant Dave Morgan and
his mother. He had located here in the days when, as a patrolman, he
had walked beat out of the Town Hall Police Station, a short
distance away. After his promotion to the detective force, he
remained here because of the convenient location. The elevated
railroad had its right of way directly back of his home, and the
Addison Street station was only around the corner. He could quickly
get to the Detective Bureau or almost any part of the widespreading
city.

Morgan's home was unpretentious but comfortable. The hand of a
careful and thoughtful housekeeper was in evidence everywhere. In
the big living room, at the front, were several lounging