"Hum!" he grunted when the other paused. "Where's the body?" "I'll take you there," the latter answered. "I locked the room--didn't want anything disturbed, of course." He took the key from his pocket and led the way to the tragedy chamber. For all of his outward bluster, Ham Griggs was inwardly nervous and uncertain, for this was his first murder case. CHAPTER XIV THE GIRL IN THE SARBELLA CASE As Doctor Bushnell unlocked the door and snapped on the lights, the constable was close upon his heels, staring at the lounge with its sheet-shrouded burden. From beneath the edge of the white linen covering, where it almost touched the floor, was the automatic pistol. "Do you know anything about finger prints?" asked the physician. "I thought there might be finger prints on the grip of the gun; but I doubt it. The weapon was left behind to give the appearance of suicide; the murderer, being deliberate as that, would hardly have been fool enough to leave his signature behind him." Ham Griggs neither admitted nor denied knowledge of the finger-print science; as a matter of fact, he knew precious little about it, but that did not deter him from stepping promptly forward, with great show of confidence, and picking the pistol up by the barrel. He did have gumption enough for that. Stepping close to the electric light burning from one of the wall brackets, he turned the gun slowly, examining the butt plates at various angles. "Gotta have a smooth surface, doc, to get finger prints," he grunted, tapping the corrugated rubber with his finger. "There ain't any--no, sir, there just natcherally ain't any." Doctor Bushnell nodded. "You're right about that," he agreed. "Guess I better keep this for evidence," said Griggs, handling it gingerly; ignorant of an automatic's mechanism, he did not know just how easily it might be discharged. "Careful there!" warned the doctor. "It's ready for firing; the explosion, you know, ejects the shell and throws back the plunger for another shot. There's a safety catch on the side; I'll attend to it for you." Griggs willingly surrendered the gun and glanced around the room. "Don't look like there'd been no scuffle," he muttered. "None of the chairs is turned over, or nothin' like that. Don't seem like there is any clews." Doctor Bushnell handed back the gun. "I understand that there are always clews, Griggs. No doubt there are plenty of them right here, but our eyes aren't trained for seeing them. We're just overlooking them, that's all, and I am afraid that we shall continue to overlook them. This is a job for a detective--a real detective." Ham Griggs looked resentful.