The first few words went simply enough. Wardrop's replies came almost instantly. To "light" he replied "lamp;" "touch" brought the response "hand;" "eat" brought "Burton," and both the doctor and I smiled. Wardrop was intensely serious. Then-- "Taxicab," said the doctor, and, after an almost imperceptible pause, "road" came the association. All at once I began to see the possibilities. "Desk." "Pen." "Pipe." "Smoke." "Head." After a perceptible pause the answer came uncertainly. "Hair." But the association of ideas would not be denied, for in answer to the next word, which was "ice," he gave "blood," evidently following up the previous word "head." I found myself gripping the arms of my chair. The dial on the doctor's clock-like instrument was measuring the interval; I could see that now. The doctor took a record of every word and its response. Wardrop's eyes were shifting nervously. "Hot." "Cold." "White." "Black." "Whisky." "Glass," all in less than a second. "Pearls." A little hesitation, then "box." "Taxicab" again. "Night." "Silly." "Wise." "Shot." After a pause, "revolver." "Night." "Dark." "Blood." "Head." "Water." "Drink." "Traveling-bag." He brought out the word "train" after an evident struggle, but in answer to the next word "lost," instead of the obvious "found," he said "woman." He had not had sufficient mental agility to get away from the association with "bag." The "woman" belonged there. "Murder" brought "dead," but "shot," following immediately after, brought "staircase." I think Wardrop was on his guard by that time, but the conscious effort to hide truths that might be damaging made the intervals longer, from that time on. Already I felt sure that Allan Fleming's widow had been right; he had been shot from the locked back staircase. But by whom? "Blow" brought "chair." "Gone." "Bag" came like a flash. In quick succession, without pause, came the words-- "Bank." "Note." "Door." "Bolt." "Money." "Letters," without any apparent connection. Wardrop was going to the bad. When, to the next word, "staircase," again, he said "scar," his demoralization was almost complete. As for me, the scene in Wardrop's mind was already in mine--Schwartz, with the scar across his ugly forehead, and the bolted door to the staircase open! On again with the test. "Flour," after perhaps two seconds, from the preceding shock, brought "bread." "Trees." "Leaves." "Night." "Dark." "Gate." He stopped here so long, I thought he was not going to answer at all. Presently, with am effort, he said "wood," but as before, the association idea came out in the next word; for "electric light" he gave "letters." "Attic" brought "trunks" at once. "Closet." After perhaps a second and a half came "dust," showing what closet was in his mind, and immediately after, to "match" he gave "pen."