It was the first time we had seen the baby about whom the rapidly thickening events were crowding. He was a perfect specimen of well-cared-for, scientific infant.
Kennedy took the little chubby fingers playfully in his own. He seemed at once to win the child’s confidence, though he may have violated scientific rules. One by one he pressed the little fingers on the paper, until little Morton crowed with delight as one little piggy after another “went to market.” He had deserted thousands of dollars’ worth of toys just to play with the simple piece of paper Kennedy had brought with him. As I looked at him, I thought of what Kennedy had said at the start. Perhaps this innocent child was not to be envied after all. I could hardly restrain my excitement over the astounding situation which had suddenly developed.
“That will do,” announced Kennedy finally, carelessly folding up the paper and slipping it into his pocket. “You must excuse me now.”
“You see,” he explained on the way to the laboratory, “that powder adheres to fresh finger prints, taking all the gradations. Then the paper with its paraffine and glycerine coating takes off the powder.”
In the laboratory he buried himself in work, with microscope compasses, calipers, while I fumed impotently at the window.
“Walter,” he called suddenly, “get Dr. Maudsley on the telephone. Tell him to come immediately to the laboratory.”
Meanwhile Kennedy was busy arranging what he had discovered in logical order and putting on it the finishing touches.
As Dr. Maudsley entered Kennedy greeted him and began by plunging directly into the case in answer to his rather discourteous inquiry as to why he had been so hastily summoned.
“Dr. Maudsley,” said Craig, “I have asked you to call alone because, while I am on the verge of discovering the truth in an important case affecting Morton Hazleton and his wife, I am frankly perplexed as to how to go ahead.”
The doctor seemed to shake with excitement as Kennedy proceeded.