"Sure?"

"The flame from the gun has scorched his clothes. That's proof enough."

"In the taxi, eh?"

"Possibly."

"But the driver would have heard."

"He probably would; but he didn't."

"Ye-e-es."

Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of
figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked.

"You know something about this chap?"

"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and
all that sort of thing. Has money--real money. Bachelor--lives
alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car.
Golfer--tennis-player--huntsman. Popular with women--and men, too,
I believe. About thirty-three years old."

"Business?"

"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something.
That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different