ington? Tell
me: do you think anybody here at Sloanehurst is responsible for this
murder?"

"Mr. Crown," the old man answered, "there's no proof that anybody here
killed that woman."

"Just what I thought," Mr. Crown applauded himself. "Glad you agree with
me. It'll turn out a simple case. Wish it wouldn't. Nominating primary's
coming on in less than a month. I'd get a lot more votes if I ran down a
mysterious fellow, solved a tough problem."

He strode down the porch steps and out to his car--for the ten-mile run
into Washington. Hastings was strongly tempted to accompany him, even
without being invited; it would mean much to be present when the mother
first heard of her daughter's death.

But he had other and, he thought, more important work to do. Moving so
quietly that his footsteps made no sound, he gained the staircase in the
hall and made his way to the second floor. If anybody had seen him and
inquired what he intended to do, he would have explained that he was on
his way to get his own coat in place of the one which young Webster
had, with striking thoughtfulness, thrown over him.

As a matter of fact, his real purpose was to search Webster's room.

But experience had long since imbued him with contempt for the obvious.
Secure from interruption, since his fellow-guests were still in the
library, he did not content himself with his hawk-like scrutiny of the
one room; he explored the back stairway which had been Webster's exit to
the lawn, Judge Wilton's room, and his own.

In the last stage of the search he encountered his greatest surprise.
Looking under his own bed by the light of a pocket torch, he found that
one of the six slats had been removed from its place and laid cross-ways
upon the other five. The reason for this was apparent; it had been
shortened by between four and five inches.

"Cut off with a pocket-knife," the old man mused; "crude work, like the
shaping of the handle of that dagger--downstairs; same wood, too. And in
my room, from my bed----

"I wonder----"

With a low whistle, expressive of incredulity, he put that new theory
from him and went down to the library.

V

THE INTERVIEW WITH MRS. BRACE

Gratified, and yet puzzled, by the results of his search of the upstairs
rooms, Hastings was fully awake to the necessity of his interviewing
Mrs. Brace as soon as possible. Lally, the chauffeur, drove him back to
Washington early that Sunday morning. It was characteristic o