He became aware that Denning was asking for one of the three papers he was clutching.  He gave it to him, suddenly realizing that he was not alone.  He knew his face was deathly, and he could feel his heart’s slow pound against his ribs.  If they did not believe him a sick man, they must believe him a guilty one.  To control his agitation seemed impossible.  The page swam before his eyes, and it was some moments before he could focus upon the finer print of the sensational article.

The gruesome discovery was made by a servant, entering the library at eight that morning.  She found her master lying in the chair and thought him asleep.  She knew that the night before he had dismissed the butler, declaring his intention to sit up late over some important business.  He might have been overcome by weariness.  She tiptoed out and went in search of the valet.  His orders had been to call his master at nine and he hesitated about waking him earlier, but at last decided to do so, as it was nearing the hour.  On entering the apartment he had noticed the disorder of the room.  He put out the electric light from the switch by the door, drew the curtains and raised the blind.  At once he realized that death confronted him.  Terrified, he had rushed to the hall calling for the servants.  Theodore Mahr, Victor Mahr’s only son, who was on his way to breakfast, rushed at once upon the scene.

There was a cut and contusion on the temple of the victim, evidently inflicted by a weapon lying upon the table, which was believed to be the cause of death, until the arrival of the coroner and Mr. Mahr’s own physician, when it was discovered that the victim’s heart had been pierced by a very slender blade or stiletto.  The wound was so small and the aperture closed by the head of the weapon in such a manner that no blood had issued.

An enterprising reporter had gained access to the chamber of death, and described in detail the rifling of the drawers, the partially open window; he had picked up a small gold link, evidently torn from the sleeve buttons of the deceased.  Mr. Mahr was last seen alive by his friend, Marcus Gard, who called to see him on important business before taking his departure to Washington.  Just prior to this, however, a strange woman, heavily veiled, had sent in a note and been admitted to Mr. Mahr.  This woman was not seen to leave the house; in fact, the servant had supposed her present when Mr. Gard called, and a party to the business under discussion; it was now believed that she might have remained concealed in the outer room until after the great financier had taken his departure.  Of this, however, there was no present evidence.  Mahr had dismissed the butler and told him to lock up—­yet the woman had not been seen to leave.  Of course she could have let herself out, or Mr. Mahr could have opened the door for her—­no one seemed to recall whether the chain was on in the morning or not.