"There were two of them. One had red hair and his left ear was missing. The other was short; about my size, I would say; rather thin, with a small, black, straggly mustache and swarthy skin. I should judge he were either an Italian or possibly a Spaniard." "The second one fits the guy on ice. Want to take a squint at him?" Mr. Peck jumped to his feet. "I'd be delighted," he said with what sounded to Charlie Ward like unwarranted glee. Ward picked up a flask of corn whiskey and slipped it into his hip pocket. "I warn you," he cautioned as he rose, "this guy's pretty much worked over in spots. A train went through him you know. Some people get goose pimples looking at them kind of things." "I'll risk it." * * * * * The pair left the office and descended a flight of steps. At the end of a dark corridor, Ward led the way into a basement room. Upon one of two marble slabs in the center of the room, lay a sheeted corpse. Ward pulled the shroud back, revealing a horribly mangled body. Mr. Peck leaned over the corpse, revealing none of the repulsion that Ward was sure he would exhibit. "Yes, that's unquestionably one of the men who held me up," the little man said quietly. "I'd know that face anywhere, what there is left of it. Er--seems to be quite dead, doesn't he?" he added wryly. "Quite," Ward mimicked, wondering at the same time what strange complex could cause a man of Mr. Peck's evident refinement and good breeding to jest under such circumstances. The little man leaned over the corpse again. "Odd marks on his face, aren't they?" he observed. "Huh?" Ward seemed startled. "I said those were odd marks on his face," Mr. Peck repeated. Ward's face clouded and he stepped closer to Mr. Peck. "It's funny you should notice them red blotches, Mr. Peck," he said. "I been kind of wondering about them myself." The two men eyed one another for a moment of tense silence, and marked suspicion. "Why?" Mr. Peck asked abruptly. Ward scanned the little man's face with an air of uncertainty. "Er--do them marks mean anything to you?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with caution. Mr. Peck made no immediate answer, but turned and leaned closer to the corpse, examining the faint red blotches on the cheeks with more care than he had at first taken. "To the casual observer, that is, to the layman," he said, removing his glasses and facing Ward, "it might appear that the deceased was suffering from a mild case of measles"--he paused, glanced at the corpse again, then turned once more to Ward--"but to the trained eye, I would say that this man has received a shot of xetholine caniopus into his system." "A shot of what?"