"Practically. I've kept the point of the story to the last.
Professor Moseley committed suicide this morning."

If Mr. Curtis Fleming had designed to make an impression on his
visitor, his ambition was fulfilled. Average Jones got to his feet
slowly, walked over to the window, returned, picked up the strange proof
with its message of suggested peril, studied it, returned to the
window, and stared out into the day.

"Cut his throat about nine o'clock this morning," pursued the other.
"Dead when they found him."

"Do you mind not talking to me for a minute?" said Average Jones
curtly.

"Told to hold my tongue in my own house by uninvited stripling,"
cackled the other. "You' re a singular young man. Have it your own
way."

After a five minutes' silence the visitor turned from the window and
spoke. "There has been a deadly danger loose about here for which
Professor Moseley felt himself responsible. He has killed himself.
Why?"

"Because I was on his trail," declared Mr. Curtis Fleming. "Afraid
to face me."

"Nonsense. I believe some human being has been killed by this
thing, whatever it may be, and that the horror of it drove Moseley
to suicide."