“Wait!” said Cardona, entering into the game. “Farmington took one from the desk drawer. I remembered it at the time. I found out later he prefers a strong brand of pure Havana.”
Blake opened the drawer indicated. It had been left unlocked. He found the box of cigars. One layer was gone. A single cigar was out of the second layer. Blake fished a cigar loose and bit off the tip.
“Farmington cut off the end,” observed Cardona. “I remember he took a cutter from his pocket. Flipped the tip away.”
“Never mind,” replied the secret-service man. He lighted the cigar. The pungent odor caused Cardona to sniff.
“Strong, all right,” said the detective. “Funny I didn’t notice it yesterday. Guess I was too busy taking notes.”
“So Farmington was sitting here when he died?”
“Right there.”
“It beats me,” admitted Blake. “You’ve got a tough crime to solve. Well, we’ll be cooperating.”
His hat was lying on the desk. He accidentally knocked it on the floor as he arose. Cardona saw him stoop to pick it up. They left the room and rode downtown in a cab. Blake dropped off before they reached headquarters.
In his office, Joe Cardona found a short, stocky man awaiting him. The stranger introduced himself as Tim Malloy, of the secret service.