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The Film Mystery

14. Another Clue
Kennedy looked at me quizzically. "I guess we'd better not wait for Miss Loring to
initiate us to McCann's," he remarked.
We found our way to the courtyard, and were headed for the gate when a young man in
chauffeur's cap and uniform intercepted us. I had noticed him start forward from one of
the cars parked in the inclosure, but did not recognize him.
"May I speak to you a moment, Professor Kennedy--alone?"
"Mr. Jameson here is associated with me, is assisting me in this case, if it is something
concerning the death of Miss Lamar."
"It is, sir. I saw you out at Tarrytown yesterday. McGroarty is my name and I drove one
of the cars the company went in. They were pointing you out to me, and I'd read about
you, and just now I says to myself there's something I ought to tell you."
"That's right." Kennedy lighted a cigar, offering one to the chauffeur. "I'm not
supernatural and often I'm able to solve a mystery only with the help of all those who,
like myself, want justice done."
"Yes, sir! That's my way of looking at it. Well"--McGroarty blew a cloud of smoke,
appreciatively--"I do a good bit of driving for these people, and this morning it was
cloudy and dull, no good for exteriors, but yet sort of so it might clear at any moment,
and so I was ordered. I brought my car and left it standing here in the yard while I went
over to McCann's--the lunch room, you know--for a cup of coffee. When I came back"--
again the cigar-- "there still was nothing doing, and so I thought--you know how it is--I
thought I'd clean up the back of the old boat, to kill time, not saying it wasn't needed. So I
took out the cocoa mat to beat it and what do I find on the floor--between the mat and the
rear seat it was, I guess--but this."
He handed Kennedy some small object which glinted in the light. Looking closely, I saw
that it was a peculiarly shaped little glass tube.
"An ampulla," Kennedy explained. "It's the technical name the doctors have for such a
container."
"It must have been between the mat and the rear seat," the chauffeur repeated. Then he
discovered that his cigar was out. He struck a match.
Kennedy turned the bit of glass over and over in his hand, examining it carefully. I felt
rather fearful, wondering if it might not contain some trace of the deadly poison which
had so quickly killed Stella Lamar. I even half expected to see Kennedy find some
infinitesimal jagged edge or point which could have inflicted the fatal scratch. Then I
 
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