Burke tossed a yellow slip of paper on the table near Kennedy. "That is something one of our special agents found and brought me today," he exclaimed.
Kennedy picked it up and read it, while Burke faced us.
The Secret Service man fixed his eyes on Madame Dupres. "As for you, my dear lady," he challenged, "how do you happen to be in New York with one of the greatest international crooks that ever troubled the police of five continents?"
"I—in New York?" she shrugged coolly. "Monte Carlo, Paris, Vienna, London—all were dead. I had to come here to make a living."
The Baroness drew herself up as if to speak.
"You scoundrel—you will give my apartment a bad name with your dirty cattle plague—will you!" ground out a voice harshly at my side.
I turned quickly. Ames had clutched Haynes by the throat. We were all on our feet in a moment, but there was no need of separating them. The veterinary was more than a match for the hot-headed little lawyer.
"Someone," shot out Kennedy, wheeling quickly, "figured that the cattle deal could be brought about quite naturally if Delaney were dead and the Baroness out of the way. Later he could reap the profit and carry off Madame Dupres into the bargain. And if anything were ever discovered, what more natural than to throw the suspicion on a veterinary who was supposed to know all about anthrax?"
Just then a half circle of nickled steel gleamed momentarily in Kennedy's hands. I recognized it as a pair of the new handcuffs that uncoiled automatically, gripping at a mere touch.
I saw it all in a flash, as I picked up the paper that Burke had tossed to Kennedy.