“Oh, yes, I’ll remain here. Poor Henry! You don’t know what it is to lose a chum like that.”
Nick approached the body and lifted the head from the table.
There was no blood in sight.
But just over the heart was a faint stain. The detective opened the shirt and saw a tiny puncture in the breast. The dead man had been stabbed with some slender weapon. The wound was exactly over the heart.
Nick gazed long and thoughtfully at the still figure. He did not understand how the wound could have been made so exactly over the vital spot. If Townsend had resisted, such a mode of murder would have been impossible. Then a light came to the wondering detective.
He bent forward and laid his face close to that of the dead man.
“I thought so!” he then muttered.
“What is it?” asked Maynard.
“A spray of chloroform was thrown into Townsend’s face, and the wound was made while he was dazed, if not quite unconscious.”