poker without having me on top of you before you get
to it! You were pretty sober for you the afternoon of the murder, not
more than half shot, we'll say, but later on when you hunted me up at
the McBride house, you were as drunk as you will ever be, and slobbering
all sorts of foolishness!"

He puffed his cigar in silence for a moment. Langham's had gone out and
he was nervously chewing the end of it.

"What did I say?" he asked at length.

"Oh, all sorts of damn nonsense. You're smart enough sober, but get you
drunk and you ain't fit to be at large!"

"What did I say?" repeated Langham.

"Better let me forget that," rejoined Gilmore significantly. "And look
here, Marsh, I was sweating blood Saturday when they had Nelson on the
stand, but it's clear he had no suspicion that my rooms were occupied on
the night of the murder. You were blue about the gills while Moxlow was
questioning him, and I don't wonder; as I tell you, I wasn't comfortable
myself, for I knew well enough how that bit of burnt bond got into the
ash barrel--"

"Hush! For God's sake--" whispered Langham in uncontrollable terror.

Gilmore laughed.

"My lord, man, you got to keep your nerve! Look here, Mount Hope ain't
going to talk of anything but the McBride murder; you are going to hear
it from morning to night, and that's one of the reasons you got to keep
sober. You've done your best so far to queer yourself, and unless you
listen to reason you may do it yet."

"I don't know what you mean--" said Langham.

"Don't you, Marsh? Well, I got just one more surprise in store for you,
but I'll keep it to myself a while longer before I spring it on you."

He was thinking of Joe Montgomery's story; if Langham did not prove
readily tractable, that should be the final weapon with which he would
beat him into submission. Presently he said:

"I've all along had my own theory about old man McBride's murder, and
now I'm going to see what you think of it, Marsh."

An icy hand seemed to be clutching Langham's heart. Gilmore's cruel
smiling eyes noted his suffering. He laughed.

"Of course, I don't think North killed McBride, not for one minute I
don't; in fact, it's a dead moral certainty he didn't!" He leaned
forward in his chair and looked into his companion's eyes. For an
instant Langham met his glance without flinching and then his eyes
shifted and sought the floor. "I'll bet," said Gilmore's cool voice,
"I'll bet you what you like I could put my h