Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ANNIHILATION. ed. ‘‘ Since when is your nose keener than mine?” “Tis keen for the one thing it’s been trained to for many a year, and that’s fire. Mac, there’s been a fire in Mr. Orbit’s house, and not more than a few hours be- fore we got there!” “A fire, is it?” McCarty snorted. ‘“‘ There’d likely be one in the kitchen, since dinner was cooked there, and you saw the log burning on the hearth in the library—” ‘‘ Stoves and hearths don’t burn wool and silk and carpets and varnished wood, my lad!” Dennis laid his pipe on the mantel and rose. ‘“ It could only have been a small bit of a fire, for the smoke of it had cleared away entirely, but the smell hadn’t; there - was enough of that hanging in the air for me to get the whiff, anyway, even though nobody else could. I’ve not the gift to explain it right, but there’s a different smell to everything that’s inflammable, if you’ve the nose for it, and it was housefurnishings that had been burned this night!” CHAPTER IV. FU MOY TALKS. HE twain slept late the next morning, and they had only just returned from the little restaurant around the cor- ner where McCarty habitually took his meals, when the bell jangled on its loose wire from below. ‘Don’t disturb yourself, Mac,” Dennis admonished with a grin as his host threw down his newspaper. “I'll let the inspec- tor in.” ‘And why are you so sure— “Twas not in my honor you cleaned house last night, but because you knew the inspector would be here, and you did it then for you were sure he’d come so early there’d be no time this morning.” Dennis emitted one of his rare chuckles as he pressed the button which released the lock on the entrance door downstairs. “Since I’ve been associating so much with detectives, active and retired, I’m getting to work their way myself!” “Tt’s too clever you’re getting, by half!” McCarty grumbled, but there was a twinkle 2A 817 in his eye as he strode past the other and, opening the door, leaned over the banisters. In a passable imitation of the inspector’s own amusedly satisfied tones of the night before he called down: ‘“ There you are, sir! ing for you.” “The devil you have!” Inspector Druet laughed as he bounded up the stairs with a lightness which belied his gray hair. “Getting back at me for last night, eh? If you hadn’t held out on me, we’d have been on the job still in the New Queen’s Mall! Morning, Riordan! I suppose you are crowing over me, too!” “There'll not be a peep out of me, let alone a crow, till I know what’s doing, inspector; for Mac’s told me nothing ex- cept the look he saw on Hughes’s face,” Dennis replied as he drew forward the shab- by easy chair and placed an ash tray with- in reach. His homely, long face was set in lines of deep seriousness once more, and the inspector’s, too, had sobered. McCarty closed the door, and taking a box of cigars from the mantel he held it out to the visitor. “The autopsy ‘Il be over, I’m think- ing.” He spoke carelessly enough, but his breath labored with suppressed excitement. ‘What kind of poison was it, inspector?” Dennis’s pipe almost dropped from his hand, but the inspector nodded slowly. “JT thought you had guessed! It was physostigmine, the medical examiner called it; powdered Calabar bean. It’s colorless, has no taste, and a single grain would be fatal in three hours or a little longer, but Hughes had taken a trifle more than a grain.” “Holy saints!” gasped Dennis. ‘twas murder, after all!” An expression of honest gratification had stolen over McCarty’s face, but he shook his head. ‘““Many kinds of beans I have heard of, including the Mexican ones that jump like a frog, but never the sort that bring death,” he said. “If one grain of it would kill in three or four hours, a little more would kill in two or maybe three. It was around nine o’clock when Hughes fell there across from the station house, so he must have We’ve been wait- «¢ So Cconmmicboooks (CO)