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But the dentist did not use gutta percha. Instead he inserted a paste made of strychnine and rammed it into the root canal. Strychnine acts rather rapidly, especially when it may be absorbed easily into the blood. The dentist was consequently in somewhat of a hurry when he put in the amalgum. He was a trifle nervous and anxious; coldblooded murderers exist for the most part only in fiction.

He managed, however, to get the detective out of the office alive, and when that was accomplished most of his worries were over. For there seemed to be not the slightest chance that the murder could be proved against him. There would indeed be no way of proving that it was murder and not even the most careful autopsy would be likely to probe into the cavities of Detective Carr’s teeth.

The X-ray pictures which Dr. Perry had taken of Detective Carr’s mouth showed that the apex of the root of the molar in question extended into the antrum, which is a “pocket” extending from the nasal cavity into the bone. This is not at all an unusual condition. Dr. Perry knew that the strychnine would be absorbed into the blood by way of the antrum. Death would then be a matter of minutes. Under normal conditions it would take several hours for the action to start. By then the detective would no longer be near the dental office and the chances were that even if he lived long enough to give information, he would not associate the tooth filling with the poison.

The next morning’s papers, perhaps, would have the news of the detective’s death. It looked safe — absolutely safe.

IV

As Dr. Perry expected, the next morning’s papers contained the news of Detective Carr’s strange death, and according to the accounts, headquarters was at a loss to explain the mystery. It was difficult to reconcile the known facts with either a murder or a suicide theory. The doctor smiled as he read the reports; they were very satisfying — to him.

He had been in his office about an hour when three men, who introduced themselves as Detective Sergeant Elm, Detective Mosher and Medical Examiner Richards called on him.

“From one of Detective Carr’s friends we learned that you have been treating Carr’s teeth,” said Detective Sergeant Elm. “Was Carr in here yesterday for an appointment?”

Dr. Perry, afraid that a trap was being laid for him and that he would betray himself by lying, was slow to reply. “Why — I’m not sure — that is he may have been — I’ll have to consult my records.”

“Never mind. The point is you have been treating Detective Carr. And in that case it is extremely unlikely that Carr was receiving treatment from another dentist also.”

Then after a pause:

“Do you know that Detective Carr died yesterday from strychnine poisoning?”

“No. Well, I did read something in the papers—”

“It was very mystifying — at first,” interrupted Detective Sergeant Elm. “A most careful chemical analysis discovered no strychnine in the stomach. However, we found the strychnine. Does that interest you?”

The dentist flushed.

“It evidently does,” said Elm. “You’re a mighty clever man, Dr. Perry. However, you overlooked the fact that strychnine poisoning causes convulsions. You made a mighty sloppy job of filling Carr’s upper molar. Murder in haste and repent at leisure; that will be a good proverb for you to remember. During Carr’s fit of convulsions the amalgum filling was jarred loose and fell out of his mouth. Detective Mosher found it this morning under the desk in the district attorney’s office.”

Detective Sergeant Elm took a small glass vial out of his pocket and held it out toward Dr. Perry. “Your amalgum filling is in this bottle, Doctor, and there are traces of strychnine on it! Also the medical examiner here afterwards found traces of the poison in the root canal of the tooth. That makes it pretty conclusive, doesn’t it?”

V

Detective Carr’s story of the man who had disguised himself by artificially inducing baldness was a myth. However, the official records now include the case of one Dr. Raymond K. Perry, alias William Lesser, who grew a beautiful crop of hair while awaiting his execution. Furthermore, the doctor’s dark complexion paled noticeably under the regular prison baths. As for his stoutness, he had been one of those not altogether uncommon men who can put on or take off an appreciable amount of weight by change of diet.

It was thus that Perry, after murdering Mr. Kirven, had been able to effect a great change in his appearance within a week. He had then made the bold stroke of opening a dental office and practising the profession right under the eyes of the police. Perry, it must be explained, was actually a dentist. After graduating from a dental college, he failed to make good with Dr. Kiekbush and was discharged. He then applied for a position as clerk in the office of Mr. Kirven and assumed the name of Lesser because he intended to re-enter the dental profession again and did not want it to be known that he was an ex-clerk.

Detective Carr, it transpired, had not mentioned his suspicions concerning Dr. Perry at headquarters. But after the doctor had been convicted for murdering the detective, he confessed his former crime.

A Weapon of the Law

by George W. Breuker

It was very still in the library where Judge Lathrop sat reading. The lamp on the table at his elbow shed a soft circle of light in the centre of the room, leaving the outer edges dim and shadowy. The house was quiet. A small clock in the room had already struck one. The Judge’s wife and daughter had been in bed for some hours.

At last the Judge put down the legal tome and sat thinking over what he had read. He became so lost in meditation that the door at his left was quietly opened and closed without his hearing it. Then a low cough brought him out of his abstraction. He turned and gazed at the intruder.

The man he saw standing near the door in the semi-darkness was about his own age — that is to say, somewhat over forty years. He was dressed in shabby clothes that seemed a trifle too large for him. A slouch hat was pulled down over his eyes. His right hand was thrust in the side pocket of his coat. Even in that subdued light the gleam of triumph in his eyes was only too apparent. Judge Lathrop stared at him blankly without moving a muscle.

“Well, Judge,” said the man with a short, hard laugh, “can you place me?”

“We’ve met before, then?” asked the Judge calmly.

“Met before? That’s good!” The man chuckled evilly. “You bet your life we met before!”

“Then I beg your pardon. You see, you’re standing in the shadow. If you’d be good enough to turn that switch—”

The man eyed him distrustfully.

“None of your tricks, now!”

“The switch is directly behind you. You can find it without turning,” the Judge went on in an even voice.

Without removing his eyes from Judge Lathrop, the man groped for the switch, found it, and flooded the room with light. Then he pushed his hat back and planted himself brazenly before the Judge, a sneering smile on his lips.

“Maybe you remember me now!”

The Judge looked him over carefully and coolly and as he turned away his eyes a look of contempt spread over his face.

“Humph! Jack Dodd, I believe you call yourself. A cheap crook, a low-down thief — scum of the earth!”

Sudden anger flared up in the man’s eyes.

“You be damned careful what you say!” he said between clenched teeth.

“Five years ago I sentenced you to ten years imprisonment,” continued the Judge, as if he had not heard.