“Two like jimmies, eh?” said Chick. “You may be right. I think you are, in fact, or the blood on this one would be that of the murdered woman.” “Surely. That’s the very point.” “But who stained this one and put it where it was found?” “Another of the crooks, one who was waiting outside of the house while Gordon was there,” said Nick. “He was the one who had the vial of blood, also the duplicate jimmy. The vial may have been provided with a stopper like those in the bottles used by a barber, from which a few drops can be easily shaken.” “I see the point.” “Gordon, mind you, did not put on his overcoat until after he had walked about a block,” Nick continued. “It would have been child’s play for the crook to have followed him, and, while passing him, to have stealthily dashed a few drops of the blood on his garments.” “That’s right, chief, for fair,” cried Patsy. “There would have been nothing to it.” “Gordon was a bit upset, moreover, and he did not afterward notice the spots on the black cloth, which would have quickly absorbed it.” “All that is plain enough,” Chick admitted. “But how about the overcoat pocket. How was the blood put into that?” “It would have been equally easy.” “By what means?” “Very much the same,” said Nick. “The crook could have continued to follow him, taking the same seat with him in the subway train. He could have stealthily soiled his own hand with a few drops of the blood, and then slipped it for a moment into Gordon’s overcoat pocket. Any sly fellow might do that.” “Very true,” Chick nodded. “There is no denying it.” “He then must have followed Gordon home, where he stained the duplicate jimmy with blood and hid it under the shrubbery. All would have been very simple and easily accomplished.” “I now admit it, Nick,” Chick said thoughtfully. “But what about the drops of blood in the front room and hall adjoining the flat?” “That was Tilly Lancey’s blood,” said Nick. “The crooks who killed her scattered that trail of blood, that it might indicate that it had dropped from the hand of her assassin when he left the house. That naturally would appear to have been Gordon.” “I agree with you,” Chick again assented. “You certainly have gone deep below the surface, Nick, and developed a plausible theory.” “Plausible!” exclaimed Patsy, a bit derisively. “Jiminy crickets! that plausible gag don’t half express it, Chick. It’s a copper-riveted cinch. There’s nothing else to it.” “There is considerable more to it, Patsy,” Nick corrected. “The theory alone is not enough. It might fall flat on the ears of a jury of boneheads. It’s not easy to penetrate solid ivory.” “That’s right, too,” said Patsy, laughing. “We must clinch it, therefore, by learning positively whether Cora Cavendish had a hand in this crime. We must discover the identity of her confederates, and round them up in such a way as to fix the crime upon them.” “That’s the proper caper, chief, for fair.”