prize!"

"That's the motive we're assuming. But there was doubtless a scrap,--a
row about the pictures or drawings,--in fact,-- I hate to tell you these
things, but we have learned that there was bad blood between the two
men, for each thought the other had imitated his own ideas. This brought
about more or less dissension, and--well, probably both men lost their
temper, and real hatred ensued."

Weston tried to adapt his language so as to spare Julie's feelings as
much as possible, for the girl was highly wrought up, and he was
genuinely sorry for her. He knew of the state of things between her and
Thorpe, knew, too, that it explained Benjamin Crane's determination to
free Thorpe from suspicion, if it could be done.

But Crane was staggered by the disclosure of the hidden vial.

"It's a clew," he said, but he spoke slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yes, it's a clew," agreed Weston, "and it will convict the criminal.
The label,--if it ever had one,--has been washed off. The cork is
missing,--and, by the way, if that cork could be found it would help a
lot! But all the same, I've a notion I can trace that bottle to its
source."

"How?" asked Crane. "Is it of a peculiar shape or style?"

"No; just a common, ordinary two-ounce bottle, such as most druggists
use all the time. But there's no name blown in it,--that's important,
for many dealers have their names on their glassware, and a blank bottle
is conspicuous of itself."

"Conspicuous by its rarity,--but not therefore traceable," said Mr.
Crane.

"Perhaps so,--by elimination----"

"Nonsense!" Julie cried; "you can't trace it, and you know it! You're
just making believe,--you're what do you call it? framing a case! you're
railroading McClellan Thorpe to prison! I won't have it! Father, surely
you can do something! You _must_!"

Stifling her sobs, Julie ran out of the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Benjamin Crane said:

"You see what a hard position I'm in, Weston."

"Yes, sir."

"But of course," Crane sighed deeply, "justice must be done,--only I beg
of you, Weston, use every effort to find another suspect,--a logical
one,--now, don't misunderstand me! I mean, if there can possibly be a
doubt of Thorpe's guilt, and a chance of another man's guilt,--for
Heaven's sake find that other man!"

"Not a chance."

"But, at least, keep an open mind. And spare no expense. Get a special
detective,--a big one,--there now, don't bristle! I don't supp