of an incredibly fine hypodermic syringe. Drawing back, I glanced
again at her face, which I had already noted was blotched and
somewhat swollen beneath the make-up. Again I thought that the
muscles were contorted, that the eyes were bulging slightly, that
there was a bluish tinge to her skin such as in cyanosis or
asphyxiation. It may have been imagination, but I was now sure
that her expression revealed pain or fear or both.

When I looked at her first I had been unable to forget my
impression of years. Before me there had been the once living
form of Stella Lamar, whom I had dreamed of meeting and whom I
had never viewed in actual life. I had lacked the penetration to
see beneath the glamour. But to Kennedy there had been signs of
the poisoning at once. Doctor Blake had searched merely for the
evidences of the commoner drugs, or the usual diseases such as
cause sudden death. I recalled the cyanides. I thought of curare,
or woorali, the South American arrow poison with which Kennedy
once had dealt. Had Stella received an injection of some new and
curious substance?

Mackay glanced up from his inspection of the mark on the arm.

"It's an awfully tiny scratch!" he exclaimed.

Kennedy smiled. "Yet, Mackay, it probably was the cause of her
death."

"How?"

"That--that is the problem before us. When we learn just exactly