Fulton’s face took on a perplexed look and he said: “No, we didn’t—and it’s a queer thing. It must have been started by some one purposely, for there’s no way it could have come about by accident.” “Spontaneous combustion?” “Whatever made you think of that? And it couldn’t have been from old paint rags, or such, for there’s nothing like that about. But—well, here’s what I found.” Fulton produced a small bottle. It was empty and had no label or stopper, and Fibsy looked at it blankly. “What is it?” he asked. “Never see one like it?” “No; have you?” “Yes, I have. I was in the war, and bottles like that contained acid which, when combined with another acid, caused spontaneous combustion.” “Combined—how?” “Well, they used to saturate some cloth or old clothes with the other acid, and throw them about. Then, when the time came they threw a little bottle like that, filled with acid, and with only a paper stopper, in among the clothes. The acid slowly ate out the paper stopper, and then the two acids caused combustion. So, by the time the fire started, the man who was responsible for it was far away from the scene.” “Whew! And you think that happened here?” “There’s the bottle. The fire began in Mr. Appleby’s car. Two coats and a rug were burned—now, mightn’t they have been sprinkled with the other acid——” “Of course that’s what happened! Why haven’t you told this before?” “I only found the bottle this morning. It had been kicked under a bench, and the sweeper found it. Then I fell a-thinking, for it’s the very same sort of bottle I saw used over there. Somebody who knew that trick did it.” “And whoever did it is either Mr. Appleby’s murderer, or an accomplice.” “You think the two crimes are connected, then?” “Haven’t a doubt of it. You’re a clever chap, Fulton, to dope this out——” “Well, there was no other explanation. Anything else hinted at carelessness of my management of this place, and that hurt my pride, for I like to think this garage the pink of perfection as to cleanliness and order.” “Mr. Wheeler is fortunate in having such a man as you. Now, one more thing, Fulton; where is Rachel?” “Rachel!” “Yes, your blush gives you away. If you know where she is, tell me. If she’s done nothing wrong it can do no harm to find her. If she _has_ done anything wrong, she _must_ be found.” “I don’t know where she is, Mr. Fibsy——” “Call me McGuire. And if you don’t know where she is, you know something about her disappearance. When did she go away?” “I saw her last night. She said nothing about going away, but she seemed nervous and worried, and I couldn’t say anything to please her.” “Can’t you form any idea of where she might have gone? Be frank, Fulton, for much depends on getting hold of that girl.” “I can only say I’ve no idea where she is, but she may communicate with me. In that case——”