"Thorpe may know a lot of things," suggested Weston. "Better get him up
here, I say."

"All right," Benjamin Crane said, after a moment's pause. "He's down at
my house,--I'll telephone him to come up here now."

But when connection was made it transpired that Thorpe had left the
Crane house and nobody knew where he was.

"Looks bad," said Weston, shortly. "Why'd he run away?"

"See here, Mr. Weston," Crane said, "if you've any suspicion against
McClellan Thorpe just put it out of your mind. He had no hand in Mr.
Blair's death----"

"I didn't say he had."

"I know you didn't, but you implied it, and I want to quash any such
suggestion at once."

"It's absurd," Shelby agreed. "You don't know the friendship that
existed between the two men. Why, they were fellow architects and have
lived here together for over two years. They were like brothers."

"That's all right, but why did Thorpe run away?"

"He hasn't run away!" Crane said, "what a ridiculous charge! Merely
because he left my house, you say he's run away! He's probably on his
way up here. This is his home."

"Well, until he gets here, I'll look around his room a bit," Weston
remarked, and as he went into Thorpe's bedroom, Crane followed.

There was nothing sinister there. Merely the usual appointments, and
rather plain ones, for the young architects were not of luxurious tastes
or means.

With a practiced eye and deft hand, Weston went through dresser drawers,
and cupboard shelves. Looked into the books on the night table, and in a
short time had satisfied himself that there was no evidence apparent, so
far.

Into the bathroom next, they all went. This the two men shared, and the
detective scrutinized the glasses and brushes that were on shelves,
either side of the wash stand. They were of tidy appearance and
presented merely the array that might be expected.

Weston sniffed hard at the glasses, but could detect no untoward odors,
nor any sign of poison or drugs of any sort.

The small white cupboard on the wall showed only a few bottles
containing toilet appurtenances and simple medicines.

"Witch Hazel, Peroxide, Talcum powder, Cholera mixture and soda mints,"
he said, from the various labels,--"hello, here's laudanum! How about
that?"

"No," Doctor Middleton declared, "it wasn't laudanum poisoning. It was
prussic acid. The effects are quite different, and there's no mistaking
them. I don't know what the young men were doing with laudanum, b