nized the constant danger he was in. I knew how and why he had to be guarded. His regular man, from the city detail, had been with him all day downtown; and Captain Crowley's man came with him to our house. Mr. Bronson went back to his boarding house with him precisely at half past ten."
"He reached the boarding house," Inspector Walker took up the account, "a little before eleven and went at once to his room. At twelve-thirty the last boarder came in. Crowley's man immediately chained the front door and made all fast. He went to the kitchen to get something to eat, he says, and may have fallen asleep, though he denies it. However, until after Bronson's body was found, we have made certain, there was no alarm inside or out."
"There is no doubt that Mr. Bronson was in the house when it was locked up?"
"None. The last boarder, as he went to his room, saw Bronson sitting at his table going over some papers. He was still dressed but said he was going to bed immediately. An hour and a half later—with no clew as to how he went out, with no discoverable reason for his going out except that given by Crowley—a patrolman found Bronson's body on the sidewalk a block east of his boarding house. He had been struck in the forehead and killed instantly by a man who must have waited for him in the vestibule of a little electro-plating shop."
"Must have, inspector?" Trant questioned.
"Yes; he chose this shop doorway because it was the darkest place in the block."
"At what time was that—exactly?" Trant inter-
