ate conference?"

"Fiery fiends!" wailed Sloane. "Another!"

Hastings gave his attention to Crown. He was certain that the man,
balked by Sloane's refusal to "talk," would welcome an excuse for
leaving the room.

"Let me see you a moment, will you?" He put a hand on the sheriff's
shoulder, persuading: "It's important, right now."

"But I want to know what Mr. Sloane's going to say," Crown blustered.
"If he'll tell----"

Hastings stopped him with a whisper: "That's exactly what he'll
do--soon!"

He led the sheriff into the hall. They went into the parlour.

"Now," Hastings began, in genial tone; "did you get anything from him?"

"Not a dad-blamed thing!" Crown was still blustery. "But he'll talk
before I'm through! You can put your little bets down on that!"

"All right. You've had your chance at him. Better let me see him."

Crown looked his distrust. He was thinking of Mrs. Brace's warning that
this man had made a fool of him.

"I'm not trying to put anything over on you," the detective assured
him. "Fact is, I'm out here for the newspaper men. They've had nothing
from him; they've asked me to get his story. I'll give it to you before
I see them. What do you say?"

Crown still hesitated.

"If, after you've heard it," Hastings added, "you want to question him
further, you can do it, of course. But this way we take two shots at
it."

To that, the other finally agreed.

Hastings found Sloane smoking a cigarette, his eyes still closed. Jarvis
was behind a screen near the door, now and then clinking glass against
glass as he worked.

The old man took a chair near the bed and waited for Sloane to speak. He
waited a long time. Finally, the invalid looked at him from under
lowered lids, slyly, like a child peeping. Hastings returned the look
with a pleasant smile, his shrewd eyes sparkling over the rims of his
spectacles.

"Well!" Sloane said at last, in a whiney tone. "What do you want?"

"First," Hastings apologized, "I want to say how sorry I am I didn't
make myself clearly understood night before last when I told Miss Sloane
I'd act as mouthpiece for this household. I didn't mean I could invent
a statement for each of you, or for any of you. What I did mean amounts
to this: if you, for instance, would tell me what you know--all you
know--about this murder, I could relay it to the reporters--and to the
sheriff, who's been annoying you so this evening. As----"

"Flat-headed fiends!" Sloane cut in, wr