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Scanlon shook his head.

“You’ve got me,” said he. “That’s one of the things I put up to you when I called you in as a consultant.”

Ashton-Kirk stood looking at him, nodding his head.

“Ah, yes, to be sure. Well, we’ll see what can be done. And now,” with a look at his watch, “if you don’t mind being turned out, I think I’ll go to bed.”

“You mean to have a try at the Schwartzberg folks in the morning?”

“Yes.”

Scanlon turned and had his hand upon the door-knob when the crime specialist spoke again.

“Rather a peculiarly shaped head that man in the chair has.”

“I noticed it,” replied Scanlon. “It seems to slant back from just above the nose. Gives him an unusual look.”

“Unusual—yes. I don’t think I ever saw that exact conformation except in——” here he stopped short. “Well,” with another nod, “good-night. See you in the morning.”

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ON the following morning, Ashton-Kirk and Scanlon breakfasted at the inn; then they each smoked another of the black cigars. At about nine o’clock they paid their bill and left.