CHAPTER II
THE TWILIGHT SLEEP
Kennedy had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the solution of the mysterious Dodge case.
Far into the night, after the challenge of the forged finger print, he continued at work, endeavoring to extract a clue from the meagre evidence—the bit of cloth and trace of poison already obtained from other cases, and now added the strange succession of events that surrounded the tragedy we had just witnessed.
We dropped around at the Dodge house the next morning. Early though it
was, we found Elaine, a trifle paler but more lovely than ever, and
Perry Bennett themselves vainly endeavoring to solve the mystery of the
Clutching Hand.
They were at Dodge's desk, she in the big desk chair, he standing beside her, looking over some papers.
"There's nothing there," Bennett was saying as we entered.
I could not help feeling that he was gazing down at Elaine a bit more tenderly than mere business warranted.
"Have you—found anything?" queried Elaine anxiously, turning eagerly to Kennedy.
"Nothing—yet," he answered shaking his head, but conveying a quiet idea of confidence in his tone.