In the far corner of the room he found a man lying on the floor, his throat cut. As he bent over, his attention was attracted to a dime lying about five feet from the head of the dead man. He picked it up, regarded it curiously, and, with a thoughtful look, put it in his pocket.
The Professor began his questioning with the butler.
‘You found the dead man?’
‘Yes, sir, I was returning from posting a letter about thirty minutes ago and, just as I was coming up the path of the front door, I heard a scream, dashed in, and found Mr. White here gasping his last breath.’
‘Lose a dime?’ inquired Fordney mildly.
‘Why, I don’t think so, sir,’ replied the butler nervously.
‘I heard the scream from upstairs,’ volunteered Cannon, owner of the house, ‘and ran in here right behind Wilkins.’
‘Did either of you leave this room before I arrived?’
‘No,’ replied Cannon; ‘we stayed here until you came.’
‘Did you, Mr. Cannon, lose a dime? No? Well,’ remarked Fordney, ‘it looks like collusion to me and I can tell you Inspector Kelley won’t swallow this story.’