Alan drew a step closer and stared at the sleeping girl with critical eyes. A little above the medium height of women, slender, well proportioned, her small feet shod in perfectly fitting low white shoes, which showed a very pretty ankle, she lay snuggled down in the cushions. He noted the clear olive of her skin, the deep dimple, almost a cleft, in her chin, the long, heavy lashes, the delicate arch of her finely marked eyebrows, and the soft and abundant hair, which she wore low on her forehead. He judged her to be not over twenty-six and wondered at the pathetic droop of her small mouth. Even in repose there was a suggestion of sadness, of hidden tragedy in her face which, recalling the beauty of her dark eyes, rekindled the interest he had felt in Miriam Ward at their first meeting. His impulse to awaken her was checked by the thought that she needed the nap--probably the first sound sleep that she had had since coming on the case. It would be cruel to awaken her unnecessarily. Turning about he tiptoed back into the dining room. The sound of his name being softly called caused him to hasten into the living room. Looking up the staircase he saw Doctor Roberts leaning over the banisters and beckoning to him. Taking the stairs two at a time, Alan was by his side in an instant. "Well," he asked breathlessly. "What news? Have you performed the autopsy?" "Yes. Come into Paul's bedroom," and as he spoke Roberts led the way across the hall. Two men were in the bedroom and they both glanced around at the opening of the door. The County Coroner, Doctor James Dixon, Alan knew but slightly; the other, Guy Trenholm, had been his companion on many a hunting trip in the past. Trenholm was of giant stature, with the arms and brawn of the prize ring. There was a certain look in his gray eyes, however, which indicated power of mind as well as physical strength. The son of the town drunkard, Trenholm had spent the first twenty years of his life doing odd chores for the farmers thereabouts and gaining a checkered education, finally acquiring enough money to see him through four years at the University of Maryland. He had been one of the first to enlist upon the entrance of the United States into the World War and at its close had returned to Upper Marlboro with an established record as a "first class fighting man." For nearly a year he had held the office of county sheriff. He greeted Alan with a silent nod and a handclasp, the strength of which made the latter wince. "Hello, Mason!" exclaimed Coroner Dixon, hustling forward. "I'd no idea you were in these parts again. Your cousin's death is most distressing." "And a great shock," added Alan soberly. "I was very fond of Paul. We were pals, you know." "I understood that you two had quarreled," broke in Roberts, then observing Alan's frown, he added hastily: "Forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you by alluding to a painful incident."