judge said, now all amiability; "don't forget
I'm always at your service in this affair. I see now that you might have
preferred to question Webster alone, in the music room; but my
confidence in his innocence blinded me to the fact that you could regard
him as actually guilty. I expected nothing but a friendly conference,
not a fierce cross-examination."

"It didn't matter at all," Hastings matched Wilton's cordial tone; "and
I appreciate your offer, judge. Suppose you tell me anything that occurs
to you, anything that will throw light on this case any time; and I'll
act as go-between for you with the authorities--if necessary."

"You mean----?"

"I'd like to do the talking for this family and its friends. I can work
better if I can handle things myself. The half of my job is to save the
Sloanes from as many wild rumours as I can."

Wilton nodded approval.

"How about Arthur? You want me to take any questions to him for you?"

"No; thanks.--But," Hastings added, "you might make him see the
necessity of telling me what he saw last night. If he doesn't come out
with it, he'll make it all the harder on Webster."

"I don't think he saw anything."

"Didn't he? Why'd he refuse to testify before the coroner, then?"

Sheriff Crown's car came whirling up the driveway; and Hastings spoke
hurriedly:

"You know he's not as sick as he makes out. He's got to tell me what he
knows, judge! He's holding back something. That's why he wants to make
me so mad I'll quit the case. Who's he shielding? That's what people
will want to know."

Wilton pondered that.

"I'll see what I can do," he finally agreed. "According to you, it may
appear--people may suspect--that Webster's guilty or shielding somebody
else; and Arthur's guilty or shielding Webster!"

When Mr. Crown reached the porch, they were discussing Webster's
condition, and Hastings, with the aid of the judge's penknife, was
tightening a screw in his big barlowesque blade. They were careful to
say nothing that might arouse the sheriff's suspicion of their
compact--an agreement whereby a private detective, and not the law's
representative, was to have the benefit of all the judge's information
bearing on the murder.

Mr. Crown, however, was dissatisfied.

"I'm tied up!" he complained, nursing with forefinger and thumb his
knuckle-like chin. "The only place I can get information is at the wrong
end--Russell!"

"What's the matter with me?" the detective asked amiabl