"How soon?" asked Donovan.

"I can't say, but it ought not be very long. The kind of poison they
use is calculated to work swiftly."

In the glaring light from the nitrogen bulb they stood in the cell of
the dead man, gathered about the cage of the rat--a prison within a
prison. After the first start caused by the needle prick, the rodent
again shrank back into its corner. For perhaps ten minutes it remained
thus, and then it began to exhibit signs of uneasiness. It stood up on
its haunches and began to bite at the wires of the cage. It squeaked,
more as though uneasy than in pain,

In another minute it began to run around the tin floor of its prison,
and then it suddenly stopped in its tracks, fell over in a lump and was
still.

"Well, I'll be--" began Donovan, and then, with a look at the
colonel, he substituted: "This gets me! It sure does!"

"It evidently went right to the heart, just as in Singa Phut's case,"
observed the colonel grimly.

"You were right," said Doctor Warren, "it was poison. He probably
jabbed himself with the point of the needle, and whatever was smeared
on it did the rest. I shall be interested in making the autopsy."

"You will probably find very little trace of the poison," said the
colonel. "The kind they use is designed to disappear almost as soon as
it becomes effective. Still you may discover something."

But Doctor Warren did not. Aside from a little scratch near the
prisoner's heart, where he had evidently dug the needle deep into his
skin, there was no sign that death was other than by natural causes.
The poison had gone directly into the blood, as does the venom of a
snake, and had brought death in the same way. In fact, it was the
opinion of Colonel Ashley that some form of snake poison was used,
though what it was, no one could say.

And so passed out and beyond Singa Phut, and the charge of murder,
having been quashed by a higher tribunal than that of the county court,
the matter was soon forgotten.

The colonel's theory, that some fellow countryman had supplied the East
Indian means of escaping the electric chair, was generally accepted.
And that Singa Phut was guilty of having killed his partner in a sudden
fit of passion following one of their frequent quarrels was also
believed by those who cared to exercise any thought in the matter.

"But what gets me, though," said the colonel, "is where does Singa Phut
fit in with the watch in Mrs. Darcy's hand. That watch! Ah, there's a
link I haven't had time to examine as I'd like to. I must see to it."

The colonel fell into a reverie. His eyes went to the closet where he
had put away his fishing rods.

"Oh, friend Izaak!" he murmured, "How basely I have deserted you! But
I'm coming back. Yes, I'll stop this detective work. I'll wire for
Kedge to-night to come on and take up the case. He can do it as well
as I. I'll get Kedge!"

He started for the telephone to dictate a telegram. And then, as he
chanced to look out of the window, a different expression came into his
face.

Down on the sidewalk he saw Amy Mason walking slowly along. The girl's
pretty face was drawn and careworn. Evidently the anxiety over Darcy
was beginning to tell on her.

The old detective shook his head slowly.

"Oh, I suppose I can't back out now," he sighed. "I've gone too far.
It would look like quitting, and I never was a quitter!"

He straightened up to his soldierly height.

"Besides," he went on, "Kedge would only mix matters up now. He
wouldn't know what to do, even if I told him. Kedge is all right for
some things, but-- Oh, well, I'll keep on with the case!"

This was the day following the discovery of the suicide of the East
Indian in his cell, and any intentions Colonel Ashley may have had of
subjecting to a close examination the queer watch had to be postponed.

He had ventured to keep it after Donovan had shown it to him, ready to
make some plausible excuse if it was called for, but the arrest of the
East Indian, and the preparation of the case for trial, in connection
with the prosecutor's office, evidently made Donovan forget, for the
time being, that the watch was not among other criminal relics in his
closet.

As a matter of fact, Colonel Ashley had had it in his possession since
that night Donovan went out with his friend, the stool pigeon. And
now, carrying out a plan he had made, the colonel, one bright May
morning, put the odd timepiece in his pocket and started for the Darcy
jewelry store, intending to have Kettridge look at the mechanism and
other parts of the watch.

But when the detective reached the establishment he saw, to his
surprise, a great crowd gathered out in front--a crowd that needed the


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