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"I'll go look up my sister and tell her," she said. "We can smuggle her into the clay room, too, to see your work, can't we? I know she'd be crazy to get a glimpse of it, and then she might get a snap-shot at the fun in here." On the morrow the post-mortem examination was to take place, and the inspector of police at Deanminster had left a man in the house to look after the interests of justice. As yet the inspector--no very gifted man at the most--was doubtful of the proper course to pursue. A crime had been committed; the victim was a well-known gentleman; so here, if anywhere, was a chance of his covering himself with glory by discovering the assassin. But Arkel--the inspector in question--had only experience in bucolic crimes of the rick-burning order, or, at the worst, the poker murders of laborers. The subtlety with which this deed had been accomplished baffled him. He could not grasp the idea of the devil-stick, or even take in the mode of the death. If Arkel were to be the avenger of Alymer's death the assassin ran an excellent chance of getting off scot free. David took the devil-stick firmly in his grasp and compressed the handle. At once the iron tongue with its drop of venom appeared. With the sharp point he made an irregular wound on the palm of his hand, and cast the devil-stick on the table before him. A moment afterward, amid the silent horror of the crowded court, he fell down--dead. "The devil-stick, by heaven!" he said aloud..