Behind him was Abel, carrying a hand-bag and umbrella.

"The detective from Boston," announced the latter. Coroner Talbot
rose.

"You are in good time," he remarked. "We have work of no ordinary
nature for you."

The man failed to look interested. But then his countenance was
not one to show emotion.

"My name is Knapp," said he. "I have had my supper, and am ready
to go to work. I have read the newspapers; all I want now is any
additional facts that have come to light since the telegraphic
dispatches were sent to Boston. Facts, mind you; not theories. I
never allow myself to be hampered by other persons' theories."

Not liking his manner, which was brusque and too self-important
for a man of such insignificant appearance, Coroner Talbot
referred him to Mr. Fenton, who immediately proceeded to give him
the result of such investigations as he and his men had been able
to make; which done, Mr. Knapp put on his hat and turned toward
the door.

"I will go to the house and see for myself what is to be learned
there," said he. "May I ask the privilege of going alone?" he
added, as Mr. Fenton moved. "Abel will see that I am given
admittance."

"Show me your credentials," said the coroner. He did so. "They