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178 tective assured himself grimly; and approaching the body once more he pushed it forward by the shoulders, bracing it against the table, and felt in the hip pockets.

The first yielded only a short blunt-nosed pistol; but from the second he drew a worn wallet bulging with bills. Thrusting both articles into his own pockets, Odell eased the body back into its former position and stealing to the door cast a final glance backward.

Tony still slept oblivious to all about him; and Pete's body sagged limply in the chair, his glazed eyes fastened upon the bottle which had brought death to him.

The detective closed the door softly behind him, and crossing the narrow porch made his way down the steps in the clear, cold light of the moon. He found himself upon a strip of rocky beach bordered by low shrubs and bushes, through which a single path wound away and disappeared in the stretch of dense woodland beyond. The boathouse itself was raised high above the water upon stout piles of concrete; and directly beneath it an open motor launch rode at anchor, with a, rough gangplank reaching from its deck to the shore.

The moonlight did not penetrate its dark recesses; but as Odell ran up the gangplank something moved in the bottom of the boat, and an inarticulate gurgle reached his ears.

He drew the box of matches from his pocket, and striking one held its sputtering flame close to the writhing bundle. Miller's eyes stared up at him, the muscles of his jaw working convulsively in the effort to speak; but the choking gag prevented his utterance. Odell tossed the match into