also acquainted with this Mr. Richard Vanderpole,--that you
were," he continued, knocking the ash off his cigar and speaking
a little more slowly, "the last person, except the driver of the
taxicab, to have seen him alive."

Mr. Coulson turned slowly around and faced his companion.

"Now, how the devil do you know that?" he asked.

The Inspector smiled tolerantly.

"Well," he said, "that is very simple. The taxicab started from
here. Mr. Vanderpole had been visiting some one in the hotel.
There was not the slightest difficulty in ascertaining that the
person for whom he asked, and with whom he spent some twenty
minutes in this very room, was Mr. James B. Coulson of New York."

"Seated on this very couch, sir!" Mr. Coulson declared, striking
the arm of it with the flat of his hand,--"seated within a few
feet of where you yourself are at this present moment."

The Inspector nodded.

"Naturally," he continued, "when I became aware of so singular an
occurrence, I felt that I must lose no time in coming and having
a few more words with you."

Mr. Coulson became meditative.

"Upon my word, when you come to think of it," he said, "it is a