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“Well, Jameson,” he said at length, “do you think this professor fellow is the goods?”

I didn’t mince matters in my opinion of Kennedy. I told him of the Price case and showed him a copy of the telegram. That settled it.

“Can you bring him down here to-night?” he asked quickly.

I reached for the telephone, found Craig in his laboratory finally, and in less than an hour he was in the office.

“This is a most bating case, Professor Kennedy, this case of Kerr Parker,” said the inspector, launching at once into his subject. “Here is a broker heavily interested in Mexican rubber. It looks like a good thing–plantations right in the same territory as those of the Rubber Trust. Now in addition to that he is branching out into coastwise steamship lines; another man associated with him is heavily engaged in a railway scheme from the United States down into Mexico. Altogether the steamships and railroads are tapping rubber, oil, copper, and I don’t know what other regions. Here in New York they have been pyramiding stocks, borrowing money from two trust companies which they control. It’s a lovely scheme–you’ve read about it, I suppose. Also you’ve read that it comes into competition with a certain group of capitalists whom we will call ‘the System.’

“Well, this depression in the market comes along. At once rumours are spread about the weakness of the trust companies; runs start on both of them. The System,–you know them–make a great show of supporting the market. Yet the runs continue. God knows whether they will spread or the trust companies stand up under it to-morrow after what happened to-day. It was a good thing the market was closed when it happened.

“Kerr Parker was surrounded by a group of people who were in his schemes with him. They are holding a council of war in the directors’ room. Suddenly Parker rises, staggers toward the window, falls, and is dead before a doctor can get to him. Every effort is made to keep the thing quiet. It is given out that he committed suicide. The papers don’t seem to accept the suicide theory, however. Neither do we. The coroner, who is working with us, has kept his mouth shut so far, and will say nothing till the inquest. For, Professor Kennedy, my first man on the spot found that–Kerr Parker–was–murdered.

“Now here comes the amazing part of the story. The doors to the offices on both sides were open at the time. There were lots of people in each office. There was the usual click of typewriters, and the buzz of the ticker, and the hum of conversation. We have any number of witnesses of the whole affair, but as far as any of them knows no shot was fired, no smoke was seen, no noise was heard, nor was any weapon found. Yet here on my desk is a thirty-two-calibre bullet. The coroner’s physician probed it out of Parker’s neck this afternoon and turned it over to us.”

Kennedy reached for the bullet, and turned it thoughtfully in his fingers for a moment. One side of it had apparently struck a bone in the neck of the murdered man, and was flattened. The other side was still perfectly smooth. With his inevitable magnifying-glass he scrutinised the bullet on every side. I watched his face anxiously, and I could see that he was very intent and very excited.

“Extraordinary, most extraordinary,” he said to himself as he turned it over and over. “Where did you say this bullet struck?”

“In the fleshy part of the neck, quite a little back of and below his ear and just above his collar. There wasn’t much bleeding. I think it must have struck the base of his brain.”

“It didn’t strike his collar or hair?”

“No,” replied the inspector.

“Inspector, I think we shall be able to put our hands on the murderer–I think we can get a conviction, sir, on the evidence that I shall get from this bullet in my laboratory.”