"
"That's right." Kennedy lighted a cigar, offering one to the
chauffeur. "I'm not supernatural and often I'm able to solve a
mystery only with the help of all those who, like myself, want
justice done."
"Yes, sir! That's my way of looking at it. Well"--McGroarty blew
a cloud of smoke, appreciatively--"I do a good bit of driving for
these people, and this morning it was cloudy and dull, no good
for exteriors, but yet sort of so it might clear at any moment,
and so I was ordered. I brought my car and left it standing here
in the yard while I went over to McCann's--the lunch room, you
know--for a cup of coffee. When I came back"--again the cigar--
"there still was nothing doing, and so I thought--you know how it
is--I thought I'd clean up the back of the old boat, to kill
time, not saying it wasn't needed. So I took out the cocoa mat to
beat it and what do I find on the floor--between the mat and the
rear seat it was, I guess--but this."
He handed Kennedy some small object which glinted in the light.
Looking closely, I saw that it was a peculiarly shaped little
glass tube.
"An ampulla," Kennedy explained. "It's the technical name the
doctors have for such a container."
"It must have been between the mat and the rear seat," the
chauffeur repeated. Then he discovered that his cigar was out. He
struck a match.
Kennedy turned the bit of glass over and over in his hand,
examining it carefully. I felt rather fearful, wondering if it
might not contain some trace of the deadly poison which had so
quickly killed Stella Lamar.
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