“The latter supposition I think you can dismiss,” remarked Thorne. “It was physically impossible for a one-armed man to cut Brainard’s throat.” Mitchell did not answer at once, then pulled his chair closer to Thorne. “Were you aware until this afternoon in the Porter library that Noyes had lost his right arm?” “No. I had never seen Noyes before.” “But others who testified at the inquest had seen Noyes--why did they not mention that he had only one arm? Surely a rare enough condition to have made sufficient impression on his friends and the servants for them to have commented upon it at the inquest,” argued Mitchell. “In subsequent conversations, Mrs. Porter, the nurses, Miss Porter, never alluded to his having lost an arm. Why was that?” “I’m sure I don’t know.” Thorne knitted his brows in thought. “It’s highly probable that they never imagined Noyes could be suspected of murdering Brainard, or they would have mentioned it to prove that he could not have killed him.” “I don’t agree with your reasoning,” snapped Mitchell. “The loss of his arm was bound to have come up when the coroner was questioning the witnesses about the razor; any one of the servants even might casually have mentioned his infirmity. No, doctor, they didn’t allude to it because they were accustomed to his using _a false arm and hand_.” “Upon my word!” Thorne sat back and contemplated the detective in surprise. “That’s an ingenious theory.” “I’m sure I’m right,” went on Mitchell, showing more than his usual animation as he warmed to the subject. “I was about to question Murray when Miss Dorothy Deane appeared and ordered me off the place--a message from Mrs. Porter, she said, and as Murray looked as if he was ready to back up his employer’s orders, I retreated--until tomorrow. Now, doctor, you are aware of the ingenious steel and wooden limbs invented to take the place of arms and legs; they are marvels of mechanical skill, and one-armed surgeons using a false arm and hand have been known to perform the most delicate operations.” Thorne nodded agreement. “Well, why couldn’t Noyes have, with the aid of a false hand, cut Brainard’s throat?” “It is within possibility,” admitted Thorne. “But the motive for the crime?” The detective chuckled grimly. “In moments of stress or excitement men give themselves away. Did you observe Noyes’ expression when Miss Porter fainted? You did; then there’s the answer to your question.” “You mean--” Thorne tossed away his cigar stub. “You mean Noyes is in love with Millicent Porter?”