deal—meetings with Vance Shattuck and that sort of thing. She gave up to him to suppress some of the fakes. But—well, I'd like to know more. Doyle, I think, has the fellow rig
ht. Now be careful. Don't let either of them know I tipped you off—and rememb
er, your typewriter is broken until I tell you it's all right to go ahead." "Thanks for the tip, Jameson," said Brooks, as I bustled away. "I'll look it up—and let you know."
"Have you found anything yet?" I inquired, half an hour later, as I entere
d the laboratory and found Kennedy still deeply engaged in the study of the materials which had been brought over by Doctor Leslie. As I watched him I saw that he was at work
over a quantitative analysis, rather than searching blindly for something as y
et unknown.  "Yes," he replied, frankly, to my surprise, though, on second thought, I recalled that only when he was in doubt was Kennedy secretive. "I have. What about you?" "The hint from Leslie was right," I replied, and as briefly as I could I repeated what Miss Balcom had told me. Kennedy listened attentively, and when I had finished merely remarked, "That explains some things that I haven't cleared up yet." "Now tell me what you have found," I urged. "I'm very eager to know." "It was as I thought," he replied, slowly, "when I talked first with Leslie and Doyle. Wilford was not killed by atropin." "Then what was it?" I asked, mystified. "You remember, I found his pupils contracted almost to a pin-point?" he asked. "Yes. Was it morphine, as in the cases Doyle cited?" Craig shook his head. "No, it wasn't morphine, either. I had to go at it with practically no other hint. However, in this case the elimination of drugs was comparatively easy. I simply began testing for all I could recall that had the effect of contracting the pupils of the eyes. There was one thing that helped very much. The contraction was so marked in this case that I started off by looking for the drug which occurred to me next after morphine. I don't claim any uncanny intelligence for it, either. That part of it was all just pure luck."  "Luck be hanged!" I exclaimed. "It's knowledge, preparedness. Would I ever have hit on it by luck?" "Still, I was as much surprised to find it so soon as you are to hear it." "I'll concede anything," I hastened. "I'm burning with curiosity. What was it?" "Wilford died of physostigmine poisoning," he answered. I suppose my face wrinkled with disappointment, for Craig laughed outr