Less than an hour after the receipt of the telegrams, Professor Brierly, accompanied by McCall, Matthews and Jimmy Hale, was at the office of the medical examiner, who was charged with making the official report on deaths by other than natural means. Dr. Simpson showed the old savant marked respect. Parts of the story had leaked out somehow and the knowledge that behind Professor Brierly were such distinguished names had its effect, apart from the weight that the old scientist's own name carried. The four men were led into a small bare chamber, behind the office of the medical examiner, where all the earthly remains of Morris Miller lay on an enameled metal slab. Dr. Simpson drew aside the sheet, saying: "I've not yet had time to make a post mortem, Professor, but that will be only a formal gesture in this case. This is obviously suicide." Professor Brierly, who did not mince words when engaged in a scientific investigation, took one look at the hole in the temple with its encircling powder marks. He snapped: "This is obviously _not_ suicide; certainly not, if this wound was the cause of death, which neither you nor I at present know. Have you the weapon with which this was done?" Dr. Simpson reddened. "The police have that, sir." "And the bullet--oh, of course you have not extracted that. We will do it together, if you please." Professor Brierly began taking off his coat and vest, Matthews doing likewise. Dr. Simpson said tartly: "Since you know so much about it without examination, and are so cock sure that it isn't suicide, why bother with such trifles as the weapon and the bullet. You might have sat down and written a thesis about it without even seeing the body." Professor Brierly whirled on him bristling. Matthews, coat and vest in hand, slid between them. They were of equal height. Matthews looked at the other and said softly: "Doctor, it isn't safe or wise to talk to Professor Brierly that way when I'm around. We don't want any trouble. You were told to give Professor Brierly the fullest opportunity and help in making this post mortem. We don't need your help, but it would be wiser not to interfere." Dr. Simpson was looking into a pair of dangerously cold blue eyes. Nothing made Matthews as angry as an affront to the man who was more than father to him. Dr. Simpson saw the rippling muscles, he saw the clean cut jaw; he remembered the names of the men who were behind this investigation. He retreated gracefully. "Oh, all right, but it disturbs a professional man to have his word questioned so lightly. I have some reputation--just a minute, I'll bring the instruments." Jimmy asked Matthews: "How long will this take, Jack?" "Perhaps an hour, Jimmy, why do you ask?" "Nothing, I want to go out and use the phone. I'll be back before you're through."