At the
laboratory Kennedy plunged into some microphotographic work that
the case had suggested to him, while I dashed off, under his
supervision, an account of the discovery of curare, and telephoned
it down to the Star in time to catch the first morning edition, in
the hope that it might have some effect in apprising the criminal
that we were hard on his trail, which he had considered covered.
I scanned the other papers eagerly in the morning for Kennedy,
hoping to glean at least some hints that others who were working
on the case might have gathered. But there was nothing, and, after
a hasty bite of breakfast, we hurried back to take up the thread
of the investigation where we had laid it down.
To our surprise, on the steps of the Chemistry Building, as we
approached, we saw Inez Mendoza already waiting for us in a high
state of agitation. Her face was pale, and her voice trembled as
she greeted us.
"Such a dreadful thing has come to me," she cried, even before
Kennedy could ask her what the trouble was.
From her handbag she drew out a crumpled, dirty piece of paper in
an envelope.
"It came in the first mail," she explained. "I could not wait to
send it to you. I brought it myself.
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