Heath turned to the detective who had been standing by the table when we entered.
"Burke, you 'phone Headquarters to call for the body—and tell 'em to get a move on. Then go back to the office and wait for me."
Burke saluted and disappeared.
Heath then addressed one of the two men who had been inspecting the grilles of the front windows.
"How about that ironwork, Snitkin?"
"No chance, Sergeant," was the answer. "Strong as a jail—both of 'em. Nobody never got in through those windows."
"Very good," Heath told him. "Now you two fellows chase along with Burke."
When they had gone the dapper man in the blue serge suit and derby, whose sphere of activity had seemed to be the fireplace, laid two cigarette butts on the table.
"I found these under the gas-logs, Sergeant," he explained unenthusiastically. "Not much; but there's nothing else laying around."
"All right, Emery." Heath gave the butts a disgruntled look. "You needn't wait, either. I'll see you at the office later."
Hagedorn came ponderously forward.
"I guess I'll be getting along, too," he rumbled. "But I'm going to keep this bullet a while. It's got some peculiar rifling marks on it. You don't want it specially, do you, Sergeant?"
Heath smiled tolerantly.
"What'll I do with it, Captain? You keep it. But don't you dare lose it."
"I won't lose it," Hagedorn assured him, with
