He bent forward eagerly.
There was a strangled gasp, a thump, and onto the table from the
captain's hands there fell a little harmonica. There was no mistaking
the look on Muller's face now. His cheeks were like wax, and his eyes,
so dull till then, blazed with a panic and horror which he could not
repress. The glasses on the table rocked as he clutched at the cloth.
Mrs. Pickett spoke. "Why, Captain Muller, has it upset you? I thought
that, as his best friend, the man who shared his room, you would value
a memento of Captain Gunner. How fond you must have been of him for the
sight of his harmonica to be such a shock."
The captain did not speak. He was staring fascinated at the thing on
the table. Mrs. Pickett turned to Mr. Snyder. Her eyes, as they met
his, held him entranced.
"Mr. Snyder, as a detective, you will be interested in a curious and
very tragic affair which happened in this house a few days ago. One of
my boarders, Captain Gunner, was found dead in his room. It was the
room which he shared with Captain Muller. I am very proud of the
reputation of my house, Mr. Snyder, and it was a blow to me that this
should have happened. I applied to an agency for a detective, and they
sent me a stupid boy, with nothing to recommend him except his belief
in himself.
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