at such an angle that had he been the assassin he could scarcely
have been seen except by those sitting immediately next Mr.
Parker at the directors' table. The street windows were directly
in front of him, and back of him was the chair on which the
motorcoat had been found.

In Parker's own office we spent some time, as well as in Bruce's.
Kennedy made a search for the note, but finding nothing in either
office, turned out the contents of Bruce's scrap-basket. There
didn't seem to be anything in it to interest him, however, even
after he had pieced several torn bits of scraps together with
much difficulty, and he was about to turn the papers back again,
when he noticed something sticking to the side of the basket. It
looked like a mass of wet paper, and that was precisely what it
was.

"That's queer," said Kennedy, picking it loose. Then he wrapped
it up carefully and put it in his pocket. "Inspector, can you
lend me one of your men for a couple of days?" he asked, as we
were preparing to leave. "I shall want to send him out of town
to-night, and shall probably need his services when he gets
back."

"Very well. Riley will be just the fellow. We'll go back to
headquarters, and I'll put him under your orders."

It was not until late in the following day that I saw Kennedy
again. It had been a busy day at the Star. We had gone to work
that morning expecting to see the very financial heavens fall.
But just about five minutes to ten, before the Stock Exchange