"I wish you'd let me see those same accounts."
The clerk demurred and Lyon, who had noticed a college fraternity pin in the other's scarf, opened his coat. He wore the same pin.
"Oh, all right," said the easy-going clerk, with a laugh. "If I'm going to be fired for giving anything away to a detective, I'll have the satisfaction of helping a Nota Bena anyhow. Here are the account books. Come around here."
He opened a page with Miss Edith Wolcott's name at the top. The latest entry caught Lyon's eye at once.
"Nov. 25, Sulphonal, 6gr., .45."
The date was the date of Fullerton's murder. Lyon pointed to the entry.
"Could you tell me what time of the day that sale was made?"
"That's exactly what the other man asked," the clerk exclaimed, in amaze.
"And you told him--?"
"It was half past nine in the evening. I happened to remember because I leave at half past nine every evening and the night clerk comes on, and just as I was going out Miss Wolcott came in and asked if I could give her something to make her sleep. She said she was too nervous to sleep, and I noticed she seemed all of a tremble. Her hands were shaking when she took the packet."