On the walls, hung there as trophies, were a number of weapons.

On one end of Kedsty's desk, used as a paperweight, was a stone tomahawk.

Still nearer to the dead man's hands, unhidden by papers, was a boot-lace.
Under his limp right hand was the automatic.

With these possible instruments of death close at hand, ready to be snatched up without trouble or waste of time, why had the murderer used a tress of woman's hair?
The boot-lace drew Kent's eyes.

It was impossible not to see it, forty-eight inches long and quarter-inch-wide buckskin.