Mike said, “I’m afraid it’s not likely. You see, Mr. Otis Carnavon was stalled at the corner of Hannibal and Lee. Trying to flag a push. Anything thrown from a car on that block, he ought to have seen.”

“Was the poison quick?” demanded Daugherty. “What did he get?”

“It was quick. The dog could not go far after he got it. He got cyanide.”

Matlin’s shaking hand removed his glasses. They were wet.

“Some of you may be amateur photographers,” Mike said. “Mr. Matlin, is there cyanide in your cellar darkroom?”

“Yes, but I keep it . . . most meticulously . . .” Matlin began to cough.

When the noise of his spasm died, Mike said, “The poison was embedded in ground meat which analyzed, roughly, half-beef and the rest pork and veal, half and half.” Matlin encircled his throat with his fingers. “I’ve checked with four neighborhood butchers and the dickens of a time I had,” said Mike. No one smiled. Only Freddy looked up at him with solemn sympathy. “Ground meat was delivered to at least five houses in the vicinity. Meat that was one-half beef, one-quarter pork, one-quarter veal, was delivered at ten this morning to Matlin’s house.”

A stir like an angry wind blew over the room. The Chief of Police made some shift of his weight so that his chair creaked.

“It begins to look . . .” growled Daugherty.

“Now,” said Russell sharply, “we must be very careful. One more thing. The meat had been seasoned.”

“Seasoned!”

“With salt. And with . . . thyme.”

“Thyme,” groaned Matlin.

Freddy looked up at Miss Dana with bewildered eyes. She put her arm around him.

“As far as motives are concerned,” said Mike quietly, “I can’t discuss them. It is inconceivable to me that any man would poison a dog.” Nobody spoke. “However, where are we?” Mike’s voice seemed to catch Matlin just in time to keep him from falling off the chair. “We don’t know yet what happened to the dog.” Mike’s voice rang. “Mr. Matlin, will you help us to the answer?”

Matlin said thickly, “Better get those kids out of here.”

Miss Dana moved, but Russell said, “No. They have worked hard for the truth. They have earned it. And if it is to be had, they shall have it.”

“You know?” whimpered Matlin.

Mike said, “I called your golf club. I’ve looked into your trash incinerator. Yes, I know. But I want you to tell us.”

Daugherty said, “Well? Well?” And Matlin covered his face.

Mike said, gently, “I think there was an error. Mr. Matlin, I’m afraid, did poison the dog. But he never meant to, and he didn’t know he had done it.”