"Got two breeds, no, three. Looks like a medium-length-coat breed of some land. German shepherd or malinois. And hairs from two longer-haired breeds. English sheepdog, briard."

Cooper brought the screen to a stop. They were looking at a mass of brownish grains and sticks and tubes.

"What's that long stuff?" Sellitto asked.

"Fibers?" Sachs suggested.

Rhyme glanced at it. "Dried grass, I'd say, or some kind of vegetation. But I don't recognize that other material. GC it, Mel."

Soon the chromatograph/spectrometer had spit out its data. On the monitor a chart appeared, giving the results from the analysis: bile pigments, stercobilin, urobilin, indole, nitrates, skatole, mercaptans, hydrogen sulfide.

"Ah."

"Ah?" Sellitto asked. "What's 'ah'?"

"Command, microscope one," Rhyme commanded. The image reappeared on the computer screen and he replied to the detective, "It's obvious—dead bacterial matter, partially digested fiber and grass. It's shit. Oh, excuse me for being indelicate," he said sarcastically. "It's doggy do. Our perp stepped where he should not have."

This was encouraging; the hairs and fecal matter were good class evidence and, if they found similar trace on a suspect, at a particular location or in a car there'd be a strong presumption that he was, or had contact with, the Conjurer.

The fingerprint report on the shards of mirror in the alley came in from the AFIS system. It was negative, to no one's surprise.

"What else from the scene?" Rhyme asked.

"Zip," Sachs said. "That's it."

Rhyme was scanning the evidence charts when the doorbell rang and Thom went to answer it. A moment later he returned, accompanied by a uniformed officer. He stood timidly in the doorway, as many young law enforcers did when they entered the den of the legendary Lincoln Rhyme. "I'm looking for Detective Bell. I was told he was here?"

"That's me," Bell said.

"Crime-scene report. From the break-in at Charles Grady's office."

"Thanks, son." The detective took the envelope and nodded to the young man, who, with a brief, intimidated glance at Lincoln Rhyme, turned and left.

Reading the contents, Bell shrugged. "Not my expertise. Hey, Lincoln, any chance you could take a look at it?"

"Sure, Roland," Rhyme said. "Pull the staples out and mount it in the turning frame there. Thom'll do it. What's the story? This about the Andrew Constable case?"

"Is." He told Rhyme about the break-in at Charles Grady's office. When the aide was finished mounting the report Rhyme drove into position. He read the first page carefully. Then said, "Command, turn page." He continued reading.

The break-in had been accomplished by simply shattering the corner of the glass window in the door to the hall and unlatching it from the inside (the door between the secretary's outer office and prosecutor's interior office was double-locked and made of thick wood; it had defeated the burglar).