grains, if the cigarettes came from this case," he suggested, with gruff irony.
"One never knows, does one?" Vance replied, indolently rising.
Picking up the case, he pressed it wide open, and tapped it on the table. Then he looked into it closely, and a humorous smile twitched the corners of his mouth. Putting his forefinger deep into the case, he drew out a small cigarette which had evidently been wedged flat along the bottom of the pocket.
"My olfact'ry gifts won't be necess'ry now," he said. "It is apparent even to the naked eye that the cigarettes are, to speak loosely, identical—eh what, Sergeant?"
Heath grinned good-naturedly.
"That's one on us, Mr. Markham." And he carefully put the cigarette and the stub in an envelope, which he marked and pocketed.
"You now see, Vance," observed Markham, "the importance of those cigarette butts."
"Can't say that I do," responded the other. "Of what possible value is a cigarette butt? You can't smoke it, y' know."
"It's evidence, my dear fellow," explained Markham patiently. "One knows that the owner of this bag returned with Benson last night, and remained long enough to smoke two cigarettes."
Vance lifted his eyebrows in mock amazement.
"One does, does one? Fancy that, now."
"It only remains to locate her," interjected Heath.
"She's a rather decided brunette, at any rate—if that fact will facilitate your quest any," said Vance
