Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knew he was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death would mean excitement in Wall Street matters.  Of his home, or home-life, I knew nothing.

“I’ll go right off,” I assured the Chief, and turned away from the telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains in a timetable.

“Good boy, Don,” said I approvingly; “what’s the next train to West Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?”

“You kin s’lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi an’ shoot the tunnel,” said Donovan, who was rather a graphic conversationalist.  “That’ll spill you out at West Sedgwick ’bout quarter of ’leven.  Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?”

“So they tell me, Don.  His death will mean something in financial circles.”

“Yessir.  He was a big plute.  Here’s your time-table, Mr. Burruz.  When’ll you be back?”

“Don’t know, Don.  You look after things.”

“Sure! everything’ll be took care of.  Lemme know your orders when you have ’em.”

By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief’s orders to lose no time.

Lose no time indeed!  I was more anxious than any one else could possibly be to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues were obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators.  I had had experience with the police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principal types.  Either they were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which covered a bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked with a misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligent detective.  Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the former, but the danger was that I should encounter both.

On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, by endeavoring to “deduce” the station or occupation of my fellow passengers.

Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced gentleman, and from the general, appearance of his head and hat I concluded he was a clergyman.  I studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some indication of the denomination he might belong to, or the character of his congregation, but as I watched, I saw him draw a sporting paper from his pocket, and turning his hand, a hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly from his little finger.  I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightly observed the man who sat next me.  Determined to draw only logical inferences, I scrutinized his coat, that garment being usually highly suggestive to our best regulated detectives.  I noticed that while the left sleeve was unworn and in good condition, the right sleeve was frayed at the inside edge, and excessively smooth and shiny on the inner forearm.  Also the top button of the coat was very much worn, and the next one slightly.