They scented a mystery. What was the
matter with Singleton? What was the new piece of evidence? Was it the
note? What was in the note?
Mr. Royce smiled.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I trust that my connection with this affair
will end in a very few minutes. For any further information, I must
refer you to the district attorney--the case is in his hands."
But those men he had summoned into his office were Karle and Johnston,
the cleverest detectives on the force. What did he want with them? Mr.
Royce merely shrugged his shoulders. Whereat the reporters deserted
him and massed themselves before the door into the coroner's room. It
opened in a moment, and the two detectives came hurrying out. They
looked neither to the right nor left, but shouldered their way cruelly
through the crowd, paying not the slightest attention to the questions
showered upon them. Then the district attorney came out, and took in
the situation at a glance.
"Gentlemen," he said, raising his voice, "I can answer no questions. I
must request you to resume your seats, or I shall ask the coroner to
clear the room."
They knew that he meant what he said, so they went back to their
chairs chagrined, disgusted, biting their nails, striving vainly to
work out a solution to the puzzle. It was the coroner's clerk who
created a diversion.
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