"
"Suicide?" Clymer' s raised eyebrows indicated his surprise.
"Yes," shortly. "Aconitine would have killed just as surely if
swallowed with suicidal intent as if administered with murderous
design."
A pause followed which neither man seemed anxious to break, then
Kent turned to the banker, and the latter noticed the haggard
lines in his face.
"Listen to me, Mr. Clymer," he began. "My instinct tells me that
Jimmie Turnbull never forged that letter or stole McIntyre's
securities, but I admit that everything points to his guilt,
even his death."
"How so?"
"Because the theft of the securities supplies a motive for his
suicide - fear of exposure and imprisonment," argued Kent. "But
there is no motive, so far as I can see, for Jimmie's murder.
Men don't kill each other without a motive. "There is homicidal
mania," suggested Clymer.
"But not in this case," retorted Kent. "We are sane men and it is
up to us to find out if Jimmie died by his own hand or was killed
by some unknown enemy.''
"Rest easy, Mr. Kent," said a voice from the doorway and Kent, who
had turned his back in that direction the better to talk to Clymer,
whirled around and found Detective Ferguson regarding him just
inside the threshold.
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