But Crane was staggered by the disclosure of the hidden vial.
"It's a clew," he said, but he spoke slowly and thoughtfully.
"Yes, it's a clew," agreed Weston, "and it will convict the criminal. The label,—if it ever had one,—has been washed off. The cork is missing,—and, by the way, if that cork could be found it would help a lot! But all the same, I've a notion I can trace that bottle to its source."
"How?" asked Crane. "Is it of a peculiar shape or style?"
"No; just a common, ordinary two-ounce bottle, such as most druggists use all the time. But there's no name blown in it,—that's important, for many dealers have their names on their glassware, and a blank bottle is conspicuous of itself."
"Conspicuous by its rarity,—but not therefore traceable," said Mr. Crane.
"Perhaps so,—by elimination——"
"Nonsense!" Julie cried; "you can't trace it, and you know it! You're just making believe,—you're what do you call it? framing a case! you're railroading McClellan Thorpe to prison! I won't have it! Father, surely you can do something! You must!"
Stifling her sobs, Julie ran out of the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence and then Benjamin Crane said: