Part 10 (1/2)

Ashton-Kirk studied the particles clinging to the bar with much interest, an eager look in his eyes.

”It may be a coincidence,” said he, ”but I'm inclined to think not.”

”What may be a coincidence?” asked Scanlon, as the other carefully sc.r.a.ped the particles from the grading into a compartment of a paper fold. But Ashton-Kirk made no reply except:

”Give me a 'boost' up to that window.”

The big man obediently did so; on the ledge were the marks of fingers in the dust which damp had caused to stick there.

”And newly done,” said Ashton-Kirk, as he dropped to the ground, a glint in his eye. ”Very little dust has attached itself since they were made.”

He began searching the surface of the ground under the window; finally he took a strong lens from his pocket and with increased interest resumed the inspection.

”Very likely one of the cops did this,” said Scanlon. ”Wanted to see if the window was fast.”

Ashton-Kirk got up from his stooping position and slipped the lens back into his pocket.

”They would have tried the window from the inside in that case,” said he. ”It would have been easier to get at.” He stood for a moment, reflecting; then he continued: ”There seems to be very little more to be hoped for. Let us speak to Osborne before we go.”

The big headquarters man was in the room across the hall from the one in which the crime had been committed.

”Well, all through?” he asked, genially, and with the manner of one whose position is a.s.sured.

”Yes, I think so,” said Ashton-Kirk.

”We covered it all pretty well outside there,” nodded Osborne, complacently, ”and we got nothing from it. Depend on it, this thing was an inside job. The party that did it belonged right here in the house.”

”Too bad,” mused Ashton-Kirk, as he looked about the comfortable, homelike room. ”Too bad! That will mean that another home is wrecked; and this one seems decidedly worth keeping together--nice etching and rugs and some very good bits of old bra.s.s.” He took up a candlestick from the end of a shelf. ”Here is a real old Colonial candlestick which must weigh at least five pounds.”

Osborne looked at the piece, grimly.

”If Tom Burton were alive,” said he, ”he might be able to tell you something about the weight of such things. It was with just such another he was killed.”

”Oh, indeed!” Ashton-Kirk replaced the candlestick upon the shelf and dusted his fingers with a handkerchief. ”Well, we'll be running along, Osborne.” They shook hands with the detective. ”Sorry we hadn't any better luck.”

”So am I,” said Osborne, still complacently. ”But it breaks that way sometimes. We can't turn up new stuff where it doesn't exist.”

”True,” said Ashton-Kirk, as he descended from the porch to the paved walk. ”That's very true. But thank you just the same. And good-bye.”

And so with Scanlon at his side, he set off at a smart pace toward the railroad station.

CHAPTER VI

ASHTON-KIRK ASKS QUESTIONS

Ashton-Kirk dismissed his car in front of a restaurant in the center of the city; he and his friend had luncheon in a quiet corner, then lighted cigars and smoked while they sipped their coffee.

”This is the second little matter I've had to put up to you,” said Bat Scanlon. ”I hope it won't grow into a habit.”

”If it has any of the entertaining qualities of the other case,” smiled the investigator, ”I shall be greatly beholden to you.”