"Yes; by wire," Greenleaf paused, as if he enjoyed whetting the other's curiosity.
Bristow made no comment. He gave the impression of being confident that the report could contain nothing of value.
"You ain't very anxious to know what it is," the chief complained. "I nearly had a fit until it came."
"Oh, it doesn't matter much, one way or the other," Bristow said, conscious of Greenleaf's petulance. "The thing's settled anyway."
"That may be true; but it don't do any harm to get everything we can. The laboratory reported what you thought they'd report. Nothing under Miss Fulton's nails; particles of a white person's skin, epidermis, under Perry's."
Bristow laughed pleasantly, his eyes suddenly more alight.
"I beg your pardon, chief; I was having a little fun with you—by pretending indifference. But it's great—better than I'd really dared expect. It's the only direct, first-hand evidence we can offer showing that the negro, beyond any dispute, did attack her."
He laughed again. "Let's see the wire."
"I guess it settles the whole business," Greenleaf exulted, passing him the telegram.
He read it and handed it back.