sulted from an automobile accident in which the professor was injured two years ago. To make assurance doubly sure, we called in his dentist who readily identified his own work on the teeth."
"When was the professor last seen alive?"
"That is the feature that makes the affair so uncanny. He was alive, and apparently normal mentally and physically, at dinner last evening."
"Most amazing!" exclaimed Dr. Dorp. "Suppose we go out"
"Just what I was going to suggest." replied the chief. "My car is waiting outside. Would you care to accompany us, Mr. Evans?"
"He would perish from curiosity if he couldn't see the thing through now," said the doctor when I hesitated. "Come along with us, old man. If two minds are better than one, then surely three minds are superior to two."
We piled into the chief's roomy roadster and were soon speeding toward the house of mystery.
Two Mysterious Deaths
PRESENTLY the car stopped before a two-story brick house. Its upper windows, with shades half drawn, appeared to stare down at us with a look of sly cunning as if endeavoring to conceal some fearful secret.
A short chunky individual, smooth-faced and with a decidedly florid complexion, met us at the door. Chief McGraw introduced him as Hirsch, the fingerprint expert.
"All alone, Hirsch?" asked the chief, looking about as we entered the spacious living room.
"Might as well be," replied Hirsch. "Miss Townsend is in her room with a neighbor. The cook and housemaid are out in the kitchen, scared green."
"Coroner been here?"
"No. He called me up about twenty minutes ago and said he had an inquest to attend to on the south side. Told me he didn't know how soon he could get here, but it would be several hours, at least."
"How about the prints?"
"All the finger prints in the laboratory seem to have been made by the same person, evidently the professor."
"Hum. Better 'phone headquarters right away and have them send Rooney out. He might come in handy to guard the death room in case the coroner is late."
"All right sir. I'll call up right away."
"Now gentlemen," said the chief, turning to the doctor and me, "let us go upstairs."
We followed him up the thickly carpeted stairway and along a broad corridor at the end of which he opened a door.
I started involuntarily at sight of the grinning, ghastly thing that lay on the floor. Not so Dr. Dorp. He knelt beside it and examined it minutely, his keen gray eyes alert for every detail. He even touched his fingers to the white forehead and prodded the shadowy depths of the empty eye sockets.
At length he rose and washed his hands at the porcelain lavatory.
"It seems incredible," he said, "that this man could have been alive yesterday."
"Just what I was thinking," responded the chief. "Those bones could not have been drier or whiter if they had bleached in the sunlight for the last ten years."
The doctor now turned his attention to the contents of the laboratory. He examined the collection of retorts, test tubes, breakers, jars, dishes and other paraphernalia spread on a porcelain-topped table set against the wall and reaching half the length of the room. The walls were shelved clear to the ceiling, and every shelf was crowded to its utmost capacity with bottles, jars and cans containing a multitude of chemicals. To these he gave but scant attention.
In the center of the immaculate white tile floor stood an open, glass-lined vat. From its height and diameter I estimated its capacity at about sixty gallons. This vat was more than a third full of a colorless, viscous liquid that gave off a queer, musty odor.
"What do you suppose that stuff is?" I asked Dr. Dorp.
"Looks like a heavy albuminous or gelatinous solution," he said. "Possibly it is some special compound the professor employed in his experiments. Mediums of this nature are often used in the cultivation of colonies of bacteria and it is possible that he intended to use it as a carrier and food for the organisms it was his ambition to create synthetically."
"Any idea what caused the death of the professor?" asked the chief.
"I have a theory," replied Dr. Dorp, "but it seems so illogical, so wildly impossible, so—er, contrary to the teachings of science that I prefer to keep it to myself for the present, at least."
A heavy tread sounded in the hallway and a moment later a blue-uniformed officer entered.
"Hello, Rooney," greeted Chief McGraw. "I want you to see that no one disturbs this room or its contents until the coroner arrives. We are going downstairs now. Keep a weather eye on things and I'll send a man to relieve you soon. If either of these gentlemen wants to come in at any time you may admit him.
"Yes, sir. I'll remember them."
We trooped down stairs. Two women were seated in the living room. Chief McGraw presented us to the younger, who proved to be the professor's daughter, Dorothy Townsend. She was a slender girl about twenty years of age with pale, regular features and a wealth of gold-brown hair. Her large, expressive eyes were red with recent weeping and her lips quivered slightly as she bowed to us in turn and introduced us to the stout, middle-aged neighbor, Mrs. Harms, who had been endeavoring to comfort her.
"Hirsch and I are going to run down to headquarters for a couple of hours," said the chief. "Would you prefer to come with us or stay here and look around?"
"I think we had better look around a bit if you don't mind," replied the doctor.
"All right. I'm going to send a man to relieve Rooney at six. Will be along myself a little later. If you discover anything new call me up."
When the two men were gone the doctor bowed before Miss Townsend.
"May I have a few words with you in private?" he asked.
