"A pretty story!" exclaimed O'Connor.

Craig laid his hand on his arm to check him, as he examined a
record registered on the cylinder of the machine.

"By the way, Armstrong, I want you to write me out a note that I
can use to get a hundred heroin tablets. You can write it all but
the name of the place where I can get them."

Armstrong was on the point of demurring, but the last sentence
reassured him. He would reveal nothing by it--yet.

Still the man was trembling like a leaf. He wrote:

"Give Whitecap one hundred shocks--A Victim."

For a moment Kennedy studied the note carefully. "Oh--er--I
forgot, Armstrong, but a few days ago an anonymous letter was sent
to Mrs. Sutphen, signed 'A Friend.' Do you know anything about
it?"

"A note?" the man repeated. "Mrs. Sutphen? I don't know anything
about any note, or Mrs. Sutphen either."

Kennedy was still studying his record. "This," he remarked slowly,
"is what I call my psychophysical test for falsehood. Lying, when
it is practiced by an expert, is not easily detected by the most
careful scrutiny of the liar's appearance and manner.