d whine all he pleases, but tonight he's my meat--my
meat, right! Talk? You bet he'll talk!"

She considered, looking at the opposite wall. He was convinced that she
examined the project, viewing it from the standpoint of his interest,
seeking possible dangers of failure. Nevertheless, he hurried her
decision.

"It's the thing to do, isn't it?"

"I should think so," she said at last. "You, with your mental
forcefulness, your ability as a questioner--why, I don't see how you can
fail to get at what he knows. Beside, you have the element of surprise
on your side. That will go far toward sweeping him off his feet."

He was again conscious of his debt of gratitude to this woman, and tried
to voice it.

"This is the first time," he declared, big with confidence, "I've felt
that I had the right end of this case."

When she had closed the door on him, she went back to the living room
and set back in its customary place the chair he had occupied. Her own
was where it always belonged. From there she went into the bathroom and,
as Hastings had seen her do before, drew a glass of water which she
drank slowly.

Then, examining her hard, smooth face in the bedroom mirror, she said
aloud:

"Pretty soon, now, somebody will talk business--with me."

There was no elation in her voice. But her lips were, for a moment,
thick and wet, changing her countenance into a picture of inordinate
greed.

XV

IN ARTHUR SLOANE'S ROOM

Hastings went back to Sloanehurst that evening for another and more
forceful attempt to argue Arthur Sloane into frankness. Like Mrs. Brace,
he could not get away from the definite conclusion that Lucille's father
was silent from fear of telling what he knew. Moreover, he realized
that, without a closer connection with Sloane, his own handling of the
case was seriously impeded.

Lucille was on the front porch, evidently waiting for him, although he
had not notified her in advance of his visit. She went hurriedly down
the steps and met him on the walk. When he began an apology for having
to annoy her so frequently, she cut short his excuses.

"Oh, but I'm glad you're here--so glad! We need your help. The sheriff's
here."

She put her hand on his coat sleeve; he could feel the tremour of it as
she pulled, unconsciously, on the cloth. She turned toward the verandah
steps.

"What's he doing?" he asked, detaining her.

"He's in father's room," she said in feverish haste, "asking him all
sorts