"What?"

"Just what I said. There was a man killed last night in that back room
upstairs. Shot in the head through the window. I heard the shot and
investigated. His body lies there now."

I saw Broussard's snaky eyes flash across toward Coombs' face, but the
latter remained motionless.

"It's a damn lie!" he ejaculated roughly. "There is no body there."

"Easily settled. Come with me, and I 'll show you."

Rather to my surprise neither objected to the test, and we tramped in
single file toward the house. Some precaution kept me at the rear, and
I followed silently when Coombs entered the open door of the kitchen.
Unknown to me there was a narrow back stairway, and we mounted this
without exchanging a word. In the upper hall Coombs threw open the
rear door, and, stood aside, not even looking within.

I glanced past him. There was the furniture as I remembered it, the
dirty walls, the opened window. But the overturned chair stood against
the wall, the cards were stacked on the table, and there was no body
lying on the floor. So startled was I by this discovery that I could
scarcely credit my eyesight, but was brought to a realization of the
truth by Coombs' harsh laugh.

"Well, where 's yer dead man? I reckon ye don't see none, hey!"

"No," I insisted, "but I did see one--twice. The body lay there where