In the safe in his beautifully fitted
library he deposited Limpy's document in an envelope containing
all the correspondence that had lead up to the final step in the
discovery.
. . . . . . . .
It was late in the evening when I returned to our apartment and,
not finding Kennedy there, knew that I would discover him at the
laboratory.
"Craig," I cried as I burst in on him, "I've got a case for you--
greater than any ever before!"
Kennedy looked up calmly from the rack of scientific instruments
that surrounded him, test tubes, beakers, carefully labelled
bottles.
He had been examining a piece of cloth and had laid it aside in
disappointment near his magnifying glass. Just now he was watching
a reaction in a series of test tubes standing on his table. He was
looking dejectedly at the floor as I came in.
"Indeed?" he remarked coolly going back to the reaction.
"Yes," I cried. "It is a scientific criminal who seems to leave no
clues."
Kennedy looked up gravely. "Every criminal leaves a trace," he
said quietly. "If it hasn't been found, then it must be because no
one has ever looked for it in the right way."
Still gazing at me keenly, he added, "Yes, I already knew there
was such a man at large. I have been called in on that Fletcher
case--he was a trustee of the University, you know.
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