enough, more sensitive to the probable comments of a crusty judge if
counsel for the defense contrived to elicit the facts.

"Anything fresh?" inquired the superintendent, when a smart car drew up,
and Winter entered.

Mr. Fowler was in plain clothes, and the blinds were half drawn. No one
could possibly recognize either of the occupants unless the car was
halted, and the inquisitor literally thrust his head inside. The motor
was a private one, borrowed for the occasion.

"Yes, a little," said Winter, as the chauffeur put the engine in gear.
"Your man, Robinson, has been drawing Elkin, or Elkin drew him--I am not
quite sure which, but think it matterless either way."

He sketched Robinson's activities briefly, but in sufficient outline.

"A new figure has come on the screen--Siddle, the chemist," he added
thoughtfully.

"Siddle!" Mr. Fowler was surprised. "Why, he is supposed to be a model of
the law-abiding citizen."

"I don't say he has lost his character in that respect," said Winter.
"Still, he puzzles me. Elkin is a loud-mouthed fool. The verbal bricks he
hurls at Grant are generally half baked, and crumble into dust. Hitherto,
Siddle has tried to repress him, with a transparent honesty that rather
worried me. On Friday night, however, Siddle attacked Grant with poisoned
arrows. He did more damage in two minutes than Elkin could achieve in as
many months."