string--he's been with me for eight years."

"Of course it's nonsense," assented Goldberger. "It's nonsense to say
that he was killed by anybody. He killed himself. We'll learn the
cause when we identify him--jealousy maybe, or maybe just hard luck
--he doesn't look affluent."

"I'll cable to Paris," said Simmonds. "If he belongs there, we'll soon
find out who he is."

"You'd better call an ambulance and have him taken to the morgue,"
went on Goldberger. "Somebody may identify him there. There'll be a
crowd to-morrow, for, of course, the papers will be full of this
affair--"

"The _Record_, at least, will have a very full account," Godfrey
assured him.

"And I'll call the inquest for the day after," Goldberger continued.
"I'll send my physician down to make a post-mortem right away. If
there's any poison in this fellow's stomach, we'll find it."

Godfrey did not speak; but I knew what was in his mind. He was
thinking that, if such poison existed, the vessel which had contained
it had not yet been found. The same thought, no doubt, occurred to
Simmonds, for, after ordering the policeman in the hall to call the
ambulance, he returned and began a careful search of the room, using
his electric torch to illumine every shadowed corner. Godfrey devoted
himself to a similar search; but both were without result. Then
Godfrey made a minute inspection of the injured hand, while