woman right off; and my men were looking the place over when you showed up."
"Where's this Mrs. Platz now?" asked Markham.
"Upstairs being watched by one of the local men. She lives in the house."
"Why did you mention the specific hour of twelve-thirty to the doctor?"
"Platz told me she heard a report at that time, which I thought might have been the shot. I guess now it was the shot—it checks up with a number of things."
"I think we'd better have another talk with Mrs. Platz," Markham suggested. "But first: did you find anything suggestive in the room here—anything to go on?"
Heath hesitated almost imperceptibly; then he drew from his coat pocket a woman's hand-bag and a pair of long white kid gloves, and tossed them on the table in front of the District Attorney.
"Only these," he said. "One of the local men found them on the end of the mantel over there."
After a casual inspection of the gloves, Markham opened the hand-bag and turned its contents out onto the table. I came forward and looked on, but Vance remained in his chair, placidly smoking a cigarette.
The hand-bag was of fine gold mesh with a catch set with small sapphires. It was unusually small, and obviously designed only for evening wear. The objects which it had held, and which Markham was now inspecting, consisted of a flat watered-silk cigarette-case, a small gold phial of Roger and Gallet's Fleurs d'Amour perfume, a cloisonné vanity-
