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Another personality looked out from the deep-set, somnolent, gray
eyes; a personality resolute, forceful and quietly alert. It was
apparently belied by the hesitant drawl, which, as all who had ever
seen the Ad-Visor at his chosen pursuits well knew, signified
awakened or intensified interest in the matter in hand.
"Where--er--is--the--er--body"
"I don't know. It ain't been found."
"Then how do you know he's dead?"
The other tore open the bundle he carried, and spread before Average
Jones a white stained shirt with ominous brown splotches.
"It's his shirt. There's the initials. Mailed to my house and got
there just after I left. My secretary brought it on, with the note
that come pinned to it. Here it is."
He produced a bit of coarse wrapping-paper upon which was this
message in rough capital letters:
TWO DAGOES SHOT HIM DASSENT SAY NO
MORE FROM A FRIEND IN CINCINNATI
Average Jones examined the wrapper. It was postmarked Cincinnati.
He next smoothed out the creased silk and studied minutely the
blotches, which were heaviest about the left breast and shoulder.


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