"You see, Ferguson, there is no motive for such a crime as you
suggest," he remarked.

"Oh, for the motive," - Ferguson rubbed his hands nervously together
as he shot a look at his questioner; the latter's clear-cut features
and manly bearing inspired confidence. "We know of no motive," he
corrected.

"And we know of no crime having been perpetrated," rapped out Kent.
"Come, man; don't hunt a mare's nest."

"Ah, but it isn't a mare's nest!" Ferguson remarked dryly.

Kent bent eagerly forward - "You have heard from the coroner -"

"Not yet," Ferguson jerked forward his chair until his knees
touched Kent.

Had either man looked toward the window near which they were sitting,
he would have seen a black shadow squatting ape-like on the window
ledge. As Kent leaned over to relight his cigar, the face at the
window vanished, to cautiously reappear a second later.

"The case piqued my interest," continued the detective after a pause.
"And I made an investigation on my own hook. After the departure of
the McIntyre twins and Coroner Penfield, I went back to the court
room and poked around the prisoners' cage. There I found this."
He took out of his pocket a small bundle and carefully unwrapped
the oil-skin cover.