"I agree with you," said the colonel, and there was a curious look on
his face. "Though if you mean it's the _end_ I beg to differ. It's
only the _beginning_."

"How'd it happen?" asked Donovan sharply.

"We don't know," was the answer. "The Dago was all right to-day,
except he seemed a little glummer than usual. He didn't eat any supper
though but that's nothing. Lots of times the birds in here get off
their feed," and the deputy warden made a comprehensive gesture.

"He was locked up with the rest to-night and we got sort of quiet and
comfortable here and I was having a game of pinochle with Tom Doyle
when one of our boarders in murderers' row lets out a howl. Course I
went to see what it was, and there was the Dago--croaked!"

"What did it?" asked Donovan.

"We don't know. Doc Warren's in now giving him the once-over."

"Did he have any visitors to-day?" asked the colonel.

"Yes, a fellow like himself--Indian I reckon. But we didn't let him
further than the corridor. It wasn't visiting day for the fellows in
his row, so the Dago left a package and went away."

"What was in the package?" the colonel questioned further.

"Oh, just some cigarettes. Singa Phut didn't like the kind we keep,
and he had to have his own fancy kind. He's had 'em before, so we knew
they was all right."

"Was that all?"

"Every blessed thing that was in the package. So we let him have the
cigarettes. That was about four o'clock. He was dead at eight. Here
comes the doctor now. Maybe he can tell you something."

Doctor Warren, rubbing his hands to get rid of the lint from the
warden's towel, came along settling himself into his coat which he had
removed the better to examine the body of the East Indian.

"Well, Donovan," said the county physician, "your friend saved you the
trouble of convicting him."

"Yep. But I'd a had him all right. I'd a sent him to the chair
without any trouble. But what ailed him, Doc?"

"I can't say yet. Looks like a case of heart disease. I'll hold an
autopsy in the morning. He's dead all right."

"I thought maybe some of the other prisoners might have got in and
croaked him," commented the headquarters detective. "Riley was saying
some one let out a yell."

"That was Schmidt--fellow that killed his wife," interposed the deputy
warden. "He's in the cell next to where the Dago was. Schmidt said he
heard the foreigner breathing awful funny. It was his last breath all
right. He was dead when I got in, Doc."

"Yes, they go quick that way."

"Are you sure it was heart disease, Dr. Warren?" asked the colonel.

"No, not at all. I just mentioned that as most probable. He didn't
look strong. I can't tell for a certainty until to-morrow."

"Pardon me, Dr. Warren, for presuming on what is particularly your own
ground, but did you look to see if any of the cigarettes were left in
his cell?"

"I didn't notice. If you want to take a look come on back. And I
don't in the least mind any suggestions from you, Colonel. I'm too
much interested in your work. In fact, I'd be glad to have you help in
this investigation if you think there's anything crooked."

"Oh, not at all. Suicide is, of course, the most natural suspicion in
a case like this, and it isn't hard to conceal enough opium in a
cigarette to kill a dozen men."

"Blazes! I never thought of that!" ejaculated the deputy. "Come on!"
and he led the way back to the cell.

Singa Phut's body had been removed to another part of the jail. But
the cell was as it had been when the final summons came to the East
Indian.

There were the few poor possessions he had been allowed to have with
him--simple and apparently safe enough. And, scattered on the floor,
were some of the cigarettes, made from strong Latakia tobacco, the
peculiar odor of which was, even yet, noticeable in the corners of the
cell.

"He smoked some of 'em all right," observed the deputy.

"Let's have a look," suggested the colonel. "If we had a better light
in here it might help."

"I'll bring one of the two-hundred watt bulbs we use down in the
office," said the warden, who had joined the little group. There was


<< previous page | next page >>

Jump to page: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 |