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consideration.”
    “So what?” said De Jong.
    Ellery looked blank. “My dear De Jong, what an asinine question! At this stage I’m chiefly interested in discovering what the criminal may have done on the scene of her crime; her reasons, whether significant or not, we may worry about later… Now, that paper-knife, used as the weapon. It comes from the writing-set—unquestionably—”
    “Sure, sure,” growled De Jong. “That’s why the woman tore open the package—to get at the knife. I could have told you long ago it was the killer who opened it.”
    Ellery raised his brows. “I shouldn’t say that was the reason at all, you know. For one thing, since the gift was purchased only yesterday, it’s highly improbable that the murderess knew there would be a sharp new letter-opener handy for her crime tonight. No, no; the use of the letter-opener as a dagger was completely fortuitous, I’m convinced. It’s more likely the murderess was prowling about here before the crime and opened the package out of sheer curiosity, or from an inner necessity due to nervousness in anticipation of what she was about to do. Naturally, discovering the letter-opener, she would prefer to use it rather than the weapon she must have brought along—if this was a premeditated murder, as it seems to have been. And from time inconceivable the female of the species has found in the knife the fullest expression of her homicidal impulses.”
    De Jong scratched his nose and looked annoyed. Bill said in a halting way, “If she had time to prowl… It would look as if she had the place to herself for a while. Then where was Joe? Had she attacked him first? The coroner—”
    “Now, now, Bill,” said Ellery soothingly, “don’t fret about these things. We haven’t enough facts yet. You didn’t know anything about this gift, Bill?”
    “Not a blessed thing. It sort of… bowls me over. I’ve never bothered much with birthdays. Joe—” He averted his face.
    “Well,” shrugged De Jong, “I’ll admit a croaked brother-in-law is one hell of a birthday present. What else did you find, Mr. Queen?”
    “Do you want a complete résumé?” asked Ellery calmly. “You know, De Jong, the trouble with you fellows is that you can never overcome your professional contempt for the amateur. I’ve known amateurs to sit at the feet of professionals, but I can’t say the reverse has held equally true. Murphy, if I were you I should take notes. Your local prosecutor may bless them some day.”
    Murphy looked embarrassed, but De Jong nodded with a grim smile.
    “A general description of the shack and its contents,” said Ellery, puffing thoughtfully on his brier, “leads to a rather curious conclusion. In this one-room shack we find neither bed nor cot—no sleeping equipment of any kind. There is a fire-place but no firewood—in fact, no débris or ashes, and the hearth is remarkably clean. The fireplace obviously hasn’t been used for months. What else? A broken-down old coal-stove, eaten away by rust and entirely useless for cooking or heating purposes—no doubt a relic of the days when this shack was occupied by squatters… In this connection, observe that there are no candles, no oil-lamps, no gas connections, no matches of any description—”
    “True enough,” admitted De Jong. “Didn’t this bird smoke, Angell?”
    “No.” Bill was staring out the front window.
    “In fact,” continued Ellery, “the only means of illumination here is the electric lamp on the table. There’s a power-house—?” De Jong nodded. “It’s immaterial whether the occupant of this place had the electricity installed or found it here; probably the latter. In any event, note the bare fact. And, to complete the picture, there is only a handful of chipped crockery, not a trace of foodstuffs, and not even the most ordinary first-aid equipment kept by the poorest for medical emergencies.”
    De Jong chuckled. “Got all that, Murph? That’s dandy, Mr.