The Man Who Knew Too Much
"I fancy this must be a human bone," said the American.
And he turned away a little as he handed the other a skull.
There was no doubt of what sort of skull; there was the one unique curve that holds the mystery of reason, and underneath it the two black holes that had held human eyes. But just above that on the left was another and smaller black hole, which was not an eye.
Then the lawyer said, with something like an effort: "We may admit it is a man without admitting it is—any particular man. There may be something, after all, in that yarn about the drunkard; he may have tumbled into the well. Under certain conditions, after certain natural processes, I fancy, the bones might be stripped in this way, even without the skill of any assassin. We want the doctor again."
Then he added suddenly, and the very sound of his voice suggested that he hardly believed his own words.
"Haven't you got poor Vane's hat there?"
He took it from the silent American's hand, and with a sort of hurry fitted it on the bony head.
"Don't!" said the other involuntarily.
The lawyer had put his finger, as the doctor had done, through the hole in the hat, and it lay exactly over the hole in the skull.
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