Now, in the morning there had been an operation on one of the horses at the stable, and I assisted the veterinary from town.Imay have got a spot or two of blood on my coat from that operation.Do I understand that this test would show that""No," replied Craig, "this test would not show that.Other tests would, but not this.But if the spot of human blood were less than the size of a pin-head, it would show--it would show if the spot contained even so little as one twenty-thousandth of a gram of albumin.Blood from a horse, a deer, a sheep, a pig, a dog, could be obtained, but when the test was applied the liquid in which they were diluted would remain clear.No white precipitin, as it is called, would form.But let human blood, ever so diluted, be added to the serum of the inoculated rabbit, and the test is absolute."A death-like silence seemed to pervade the loom.Kennedy slowly and deliberately began to test the contents of the glasses.
Dropping into each, as he broke the seal, some of the serum of the rabbit, he waited a moment to see if any change occurred.
It was thrilling.I think no one could have gone through that fifteen minutes without having it indelibly impressed on his memory.I recall thinking as Kennedy took each glass, "Which is it to be, guilt or innocence, life or death?" Could it be possible that a man's life might hang on such a slender thread? Iknew Kennedy was too accurate and serious to deceive us.It was not only possible, it was actually a fact.
The first glass showed no reaction.Someone had been vindicated.
The second was neutral likewise--another person in the room had been proved innocent.
The third--no change.Science had released a third.
The fourth--
Almost it seemed as if the record in my pocket burned--spontaneously --so intense was my feeling.There in the glass was that fatal, telltale white precipitate.
"My God, it's the milk ring!" whispered Tom close to my ear.
Hastily Kennedy dropped the serum into the fifth.It remained as clear as crystal.
My hand trembled as it touched the envelope containing my record of the names.
"The person who wore the coat with that bloodstain on it,"declared Kennedy solemnly, "was the person who struck Lewis Langley down, who choked him and then dragged his scarcely dead body across the floor and obliterated the marks of violence in the blazing log fire.Jameson, whose name is opposite the sign on this glass?"I could scarcely tear the seal to look at the paper in the envelope.At last I unfolded it, and my eye fell on the name opposite the fatal sign.But my mouth was dry, and my tongue refused to move.It was too much like reading a death-sentence.
With my finger on the name I faltered an instant.
Tom leaned over my shoulder and read it to himself."For Heaven's sake, Jameson," he cried, "let the ladies retire before you read the name.""It's not necessary," said a thick voice."We quarrelled over the estate.My share's mortgaged up to the limit, and Lewis refused to lend me more even until I could get Isabelle happily married.
Now Lewis's goes to an outsider--Harrington, boy, take care of Isabelle, fortune or no fortune.Good--"Someone seized James Langley's arm as he pressed an automatic revolver to his temple.He reeled like a drunken man and dropped the gun on the floor with an oath.
"Beaten again," he muttered."Forgot to move the ratchet from 'safety' to 'fire.'"Like a madman he wrenched himself loose from us, sprang through the door, and darted upstairs."I'll show you some combustion!"he shouted back fiercely.
Kennedy was after him like a flash."The will!" he cried.
We literally tore the door off its hinges and burst into James Langley's room.He was bending eagerly over the fireplace.
Kennedy made a flying leap at him.Just enough of the will was left unburned to be admitted to probate.
