CHAPTER II
DETECTIVE GRIFFITH INVESTIGATES
Shortly before noon, Detective Harvey Griffith entered Mrs. Johnson’s rooming house. Griffith, the keenest man on the force, had been out of town on another case, and had come to view the scene of the murder immediately upon his return.
He found a policeman in the room on the second floor, but the body of the murdered man was no longer there.
“They moved the body out,” explained the officer. “Got all the evidence there was. This fellow Windsor didn’t have a chance to get away. Lucky he was drunk. He might have shot them when they grabbed him.
“Harrison is handling the case; he’ll be up in a minute. He’s talking to the landlady now.”
The sound of whistling came from the stairs, and a tall young man entered the room. He stopped suddenly when he encountered the short, stolid form of the star detective.
“Hello, Griffith,” he said. “Sorry you didn’t get here before we removed the body. You could have seen the whole layout. No mystery to it; they got the man quick enough. Guess you read it in the papers.”
“You can’t rely on them,” replied Griffith. “Let’s hear what you found out. I just thought that there might be a link between this murder and some of the cases I handled before I took my vacation. That’s why I drove up from Atlantic City. If you’ve landed the right man, I’ll head for the shore again, to-night. But if you haven’t—”
Harrison smiled at the seriousness of Griffith’s expression. The star detective was always ready to make a tremendous mystery out of a simple case. Some there were who claimed that he exaggerated all crimes purposely.