He waved his hand toward the form of Frank Jarnow. Then, puffing easily upon his cigarette, the murderer strolled across the gruesome room, and ascended the steps.
Mike, busy at the desk, heard the supposed reporter stop at the door, and called to him without glancing in his direction.
“Did Griffith give you a good story?” he asked.
“No,” was the calm reply. “I don’t think he knows anything at all.”
The door of the morgue slammed as the man departed.
CHAPTER IV
AN UNOFFICIAL REPORT
It was the morning after the murder of Detective Harvey Griffith. A round-faced gentleman with an amiable smile was at work in his inner office on the fifteenth floor of the Grandville Building, in New York. He was none other than Claude H. Fellows, the prosperous insurance broker.
To-day, this gentleman’s mind was absorbed in unusual work. With large spectacles adjusted to his nose, he was reading through a newspaper. The columns in which he was interested referred to the murders of Frank Jarnow and Detective Harvey Griffith.
Methodically, Fellows transcribed important details to a sheet of paper. His careful eyes overlooked no salient fact.