the murderer. To Cranston, such a theory was nonsense. In his mind's eye, he
could picture an unknown factor in the case, though he had never met nor heard
of the piebald criminal who by his costume deserved the name "The Harlequin."
There came an end to the coroner's report and with it, Cranston's indolence
lessened, though his tone was still somewhat bored when he inquired:
"Tell me, coroner, what was the motive behind this murder?"
"Robbery, suh!" returned the coroner. "Downright robbery. Downright and
outright."
"Robbery of what?"
"Of Mr. Treft's strong-room in the cellar. It's clean empty, bare as a
parcel of burnt-out out timber land."
"What was taken from it?"
"Whatever Mr. Treft kept there. Nobody would have an empty room under lock
and key with a dozen servants guarding it. I guess we all agree on that."
Everyone nodded except Cranston. His indifference had gradually faded and
he was ready to dispute the point.
"An active chap, this Kilroy," commented Cranston. "In the course of
staging a complete disappearance, he unlocked the strong room, took whatever was
in it, and locked the door again. Where were the keys, by the way?"
"They were on Mr. Treft," replied the coroner. "But you aren't allowing for
the proper facts, Mr. Cranston. The robbery was done beforehand by accomplices."
"So Kilroy's accomplices were seen last night?"
"Not last night, suh, but previous. That was why Mr. Treft had put new men
on duty. Suspicious characters were seen about these premises a few nights ago,
soon after Mr. Treft had written to your company in New York."
"Then Kilroy's murder of Treft was just a cover-up?"
"A good way to put it, allowing for the circumstances."
"Suppose we allow for something else." Rising from his chair, Cranston was
strolling over to the table where the coroner had spread a map. "Assuming that
Treft's strong room did contain something, the contents must have been bulky,
weren't they?"
"That's hard to say," returned the coroner doubtfully. "It's not a question
for snap judgment."
"I'm using your own logic, coroner. A man wouldn't lock an empty strong
room, would he?"
"I've already agreed on that point."
"Good. Nor would the same man use a large strong room to store small
objects?"
"Seems most unlikely, I do admit."
"The strong room is a large one, isn't it?"
"Right large. Biggest room in the cellar, I reckon."
"Then there's your answer, coroner. The robbers must have stolen at least a
truck-load of goods."
The coroner swelled as though he had personally completed the deductive
argument. Immediately, the men from New York chimed in with supporting opinions.
Cranston's term "truck-load" fitted with the thing that Treft had promised to
deliver, a large supply of alumite. Bulky, it would have required a large store
room; light, it could have been easily carried from the house to wherever the
truck was waiting.
Cranston let all these opinions gather and establish themselves, without
