I looked in bewilderment at the scratch on his face. "How did he
do it?" I asked.
Carefully Craig drew off the azure ring and examined it. In that
part which surrounded the blue lapis lazuli, he indicated a
hollow point, concealed. It worked with a spring and communicated
with a little receptacle behind, in such a way that the murderer
could give the fatal scratch while shaking hands with his victim.
I shuddered, for my hand had once been clasped by the one wearing
that poison ring, which had sent Templeton, and his fiancee and
now Vanderdyke himself, to their deaths.
VIII. "Spontaneous Combustion"
Kennedy and I had risen early, for we were hustling to get off
for a week-end at Atlantic City. Kennedy was tugging at the
straps of his grip and remonstrating with it under his breath,
when the door opened and a messenger-boy stuck his head in.
"Does Mr. Kennedy live here?" he asked.
Craig impatiently seized the pencil, signed his name in the book,
and tore open a night letter. From the prolonged silence that
followed I felt a sense of misgiving. I, at least, had set my
heart on the Atlantic City outing, but with the appearance of the
messenger-boy I intuitively felt that the board walk would not
see us that week.
"I'm afraid the Atlantic City trip is off, Walter," remarked
Craig seriously.
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