Nevertheless, the whole matter was a source of great annoyance to the chemist, and he felt that he must summon someone competent to handle it. He had planned extensive experiments tonight. These would be interrupted. Murdock did not like it.
Then it occurred to him that if the truckmen should return — even though that chance was remote — it would be advisable to apprehend them.
That left only one choice. He must call the police. Delay would be unwise. Nodding to himself, the stoop-shouldered chemist went back into his laboratory and continued into his living room. There he seated himself at the telephone table and began to consult the directory, to find the number of detective headquarters.
While he was thus engaged, he heard a slight sound nearby and looked up suddenly to see Doctor Gerald Savette. The physician had just entered the room from the hallway and was bowing courteously.
"I trust I am not intruding?" The physician's tone was smooth and easy. "I found that I could return immediately after I reached my office. I had hopes that your guests would still be here."
"How did you get in?" questioned Murdock, testily.
"Through the front door," replied Doctor Savette suavely. "I rang the bell and there was no response. Then I remembered that your man had gone for the night. I also recalled that you and the others had been in the laboratory when I left. So I took the liberty of opening the door and coming upstairs."
"But the door was locked," declared Murdock. "I haven't any objection to your entering, Doctor Savette. You are always welcome here. But I cannot understand how you came in through a locked door."
"I found it unlocked," returned the physician, with a smile. "Otherwise I could not have entered."
"I must have forgotten to lock it," observed Clark Murdock, thoughtfully. "Strange — I felt sure that I had pushed the bolts on the door. An oversight on my part, doctor, but a fortunate one. I am glad that you are here."
"I am pleased to hear that," said Savette. "I should like to talk with you further in reference to your experiments—"
"There is something more important for the moment, doctor. Something that demands immediate attention."
"Something more important than your experiments?" Doctor Savette's tone showed his puzzlement. "I can scarcely believe that, Mr. Murdock."
The chemist arose and placed the phone book to one side. He beckoned to his visitor and led the way through the laboratory. Murdock was speaking as they walked along.
"I was just about to telephone the police," he explained. "Your arrival was a timely one. I needed advice, immediately, and I could think of no one who could help me."
"My advice on what?" questioned Savette, as they reached the far door. "Why should you need the police?"
"Here is the reason," declared Murdock, calmly.
He opened the door to the landing and pointed to the body on the floor. Doctor Savette drew back with an exclamation of surprise. Then he stepped forward and examined the body.
"The man is dead," he declared. "He appears to have been strangled." He stared silently at the still face; then looked up at Murdock. He stepped back and surveyed the body; then gazed at his living companion.
"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Amazing, Murdock! The man bears a remarkable resemblance to you!"
"That is what puzzles me," declared the chemist.
"When did this box come here?" questioned Savette.
"Today," said Murdock. "Delivered by mistake. That, at least, is what Stevens told me. The truckmen are supposed to come for it at any time."
"Hm-m-m," responded the physician. "This is perplexing, Murdock. Yet it seems to have a strange significance. It is not likely that the sender of such a box would let it go to the wrong place. Frankly, I don't think that those men will return. I think the box was intended to be left here."
"But why?"
"So that you would open it — and make the discovery, exactly as you have done."
"I had the same idea," admitted Murdock, "but I can't understand the purpose."
"It might be the work of some enemy," said Doctor Savette, slowly. "Some one may wish to hamper your experiments. You were about to call the police. If they should come here, it would mean a great deal of trouble and annoyance to you — enough, perhaps, to delay your work for some time."
"That is true," responded Murdock, "but I can not understand why the body should be specially dressed in working clothes like mine."
"I have another theory," resumed the physician, thoughtfully. "This may be a threat — a plan to frighten you. The person who sent this box could not have expected you to open it tonight. You were expecting men to take it away."
"That's right," agreed the chemist. "I can't explain exactly why I did open it. I suppose that I would ordinarily have allowed it to remain for several days, before investigating its contents."
"Correct," declared Savette. "Now let us suppose that a message is on its way, that you are to receive a threat — in which the box is mentioned. Opening the box, you find a dead body that resembles yourself. That would certainly make the threat emphatic, would it not? Particularly if the threat were directed against your life."
Clark Murdock nodded in accord. Then he showed a sudden response to Doctor Savette's statement:
"I think you have struck the right theory, doctor," he exclaimed. "That makes it imperative for me to call the police. I do not intend to lose another moment."
The chemist was turning to the door that led into the laboratory. His hand was already on the knob.
"Wait!"
There was a command in Doctor Savette's exclamation. Clark Murdock turned in surprise. He stared at the physician and noted a peculiar expression on the man's face.
Stocky and sallow, with shrewd eyes, Doctor Savette appeared as a menacing figure instead of the suave, polite professional man that he had been a moment before. It was Murdock's sudden turn that enabled him to catch his companion off poise.
While the chemist stared in consternation, Savette's masklike affability was resumed.
Again he became the suave physician and his persuasive voice sought to regain the confidence of Murdock.
"It would be inadvisable to call the police," purred the doctor. "That is exactly what the sender of this box would expect you to do—"
Murdock's voice sounded an interruption.
"You speak," he said coldly, "as though you are acquainted with the perpetrator of this outrage! It was very timely — your arrival — while I was at the telephone. Suppose" — Murdock's eyes were gleaming furiously — "that I should accuse you of complicity in the crime that lies evidenced there before us? What would you say to that, Doctor Savette?"
The stinging words had their effect. Savette's lips spread in an ugly leer. His sallow face became tense and a vein swelled in his forehead. No longer attempting to play his part of friendliness, he gave full rein to his fury as he moved slowly forward.
Murdock released his hold upon the doorknob and raised his clenched hands. Though light of build and older than his antagonist, the stoop-shouldered chemist was a wiry man, capable of putting up a battle. He met Savette's advance and the two men stood with their eyes no more than a foot apart, each meeting the other's gaze.
There was no fear in Murdock's stare and Savette, though he had become a veritable demon, hesitated as he saw the firm, unyielding glare in Murdock's determined eyes. It was the chemist who spoke first; and his words were ironical with bitter condemnation.
"So you returned," he said. "You passed through a double-bolted door. Anxious to reach here before the others had gone, eh? You lied, Savette! You never left this house! You waited in one of my empty rooms until the others had gone.