g.

Dean Allison led the way downstairs quickly. Craig did not spend more
than a minute in the gymnasium, but the locker-room he examined
carefully.

It was a long room. Each locker bore the name of its owner and he
hastily ran his eye over them, getting their location.

I don't know that even he had, yet, any idea that he would find
anything, but it was just his habit to go over the ground of a tragedy,
in hope of picking up some clew.

He looked over the floor very carefully, now and then bending down as if
to discover spots. Once he paused a moment, then continued his measured
tread down the long row of lockers until he came to a door at the other
end of the room. We went out and Kennedy looked about closely.

"Oh,--about Benson, the steward," he said, looking up quickly and
stroking his chin as if an idea had occurred to him. "Is there anyone
here who might know something about him--his habits, associates,--that
sort of thing?"

"Why--yes," considered Allison slowly, "the chef might know. Wait, I'll
call him."

As Allison disappeared in the direction of what was evidently the
kitchen, we stood outside by the door, waiting.

Kennedy's eye traveled back and forth about us and finally fell on a row
of rubbish barrels a few feet away. He moved over to them.

He had half turned away, retracing his steps back to me thoughtfully,
when his eye must have been attracted by something gleaming. He turned
back and poked at it with his stick. Peeping from the rubbish was a
dented thermos bottle, the lining of which was cracked and broken.

He was about to turn away again when his eye fell on something else. It
was the top of the bottle, the little metal cap that screws over it, or
rather it was what was left of the cap.

"That's strange," he muttered to himself, picking it up.

The cap, which might have been used as a cup, was broken in the most
peculiar manner, in spite of the fact that it was metal. If it had been
of glass I should have said that someone had dropped it.

Kennedy frowned and dropped the pieces into his pocket, turning to wait
for Allison to return with the chef.

"I can't seem to find him," reported Allison a moment later. "But he'll
be here soon. He'll have to be--or lose his job. How would after dinner
do? I'll have him and all the other employes, then."

"Good!" agreed Kennedy. "That will give me time to go into the town
first and get back."

"I'd be glad to have you dine with me," invited