“Oh, no.  I was just interested, as Singa Phut was one concerned in Mrs. Darcy’s murder.”

“But he hadn’t any more to do with it, Colonel, than that cat!” and Carroll pointed to the headquarters cat which was sleeping near a radiator, for the day had turned cold and steam was on in the place.

“Perhaps not,” admitted Colonel Ashley.  “But there are some peculiar coincidences and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see what I can find out about them.”

“Go as far as you like, Colonel,” returned Thong, needlessly generous.  “We’ve got our man, and that’s all we want.  The other isn’t our case.  Oh, Donovan!” he called, as he saw a fellow sleuth passing through an outer room.  “Here’s some one to see you,” and the presentation was quickly and informally made.  The two men had seen each other before, but had not spoken.

“Glad to know you, Colonel Ashley,” said Donovan.  “I’ve read a lot about you.  You’re on the Darcy case, they tell me.”

“In a way, yes.  I’m working in the interests of the young man.  But I hear you have another murder.”

“Yes, but it’s so plain there’s no interest in it for you.  All we want to do—­Pinkus and me—­is to lay our hands on the Dago that done it and got away.  We’ll get him, too, before many days.  He’s the kind of a feller that can’t hide very well, unless he goes and kills himself, and he may do that.”

“How did it happen?  And is there any truth in the newspaper story about the same watch that was found in Mrs. Darcy’s hand being found in the hand of the dead man?”

“Yes, that part’s true enough, but that’s all there is to it.  It’s just one of them coincidences like.  Singa Phut got back his watch after the prosecutor decided he didn’t need it for evidence.  There wasn’t nothing that Singa had to do with the Darcy case anyhow, and he seemed awful anxious to get back that watch.  So it was turned over to him.”

“But did he really kill his partner?”

“Surest thing you know.  Busted his head in with a heavy candlestick—­one of a pair.  I’ve got ’em here, look,” and, opening a closet where he temporarily kept his collection of evidence, Donovan took out a pair of heavy bronze candlesticks, in the form of hooded cobras.

“That’s the one that did the business,” said the headquarters detective, showing one candlestick with something dark and unpleasant on the heavier end.

“Gad!” exclaimed the colonel.  “The very pair I was going to buy!”

“What!  You buy?” cried Donovan.  “Look here, Colonel! do you know anything about this?” and the detective’s professional instincts got the upper hand of his friendliness.

“Not the least in the world—­not as much as you do,” was the cool answer.  “I happened to see those candlesticks in the window of Singa Phut’s shop the other day, and I made up my mind to buy them when I had a chance.  Now, I’m afraid I won’t.  But how did it happen?”