usand dollars? He
knows I'd let him have any amount he wanted. I'd give him the money if
it meant his peace of mind and Lucille's happiness.--Dumb and dancing
devils! Jarvis, a little whiskey! I'm worn out, worn out!"

"Did you ever tell Mr. Webster of the extent of your generous feeling
toward him, Mr. Sloane--in dollars and cents?"

"No; it wasn't necessary. He knows how fond of him I am."

"And you would let him have sixty-five thousand dollars--if he had to
have it?"

"I would, sir!--today, this morning."

"Now, one other thing, Mr. Sloane, and I'm through. It's barely possible
that there was some connection between this murder and a letter which
came to Sloanehurst yesterday afternoon, a letter in an oblong grey
envelope. Did----"

The nervous man went to pieces again, beat with his open palms on the
bed covering.

"Starved and stoned evangels, Jarvis! Quit balling your feet! You stand
there and see me harassed to the point of extinction by a lot of crazy
queries, and you indulge yourself in that infernal weakness of yours of
balling your feet! Leaping angels! You know how acute my hearing is; you
know the noise of your sock against the sole of your shoe when you ball
your feet is the most exquisite torture to me! A little whiskey, Jarvis!
Quick!" He spoke now in a weak, almost inaudible voice to Hastings: "No;
I got no such letter. I saw no such letter." He sank slowly back to a
prone posture.

"I was going to remind you," the detective continued, "that I brought
the five o'clock mail in. Getting off the car, I met the rural carrier;
he asked me to bring in the mail, saving him the few steps to your box.
All there was consisted of a newspaper and one letter. I recall the
shape and colour of the envelope--oblong, grey. I did not, of course,
look at the address. I handed the mail to you when you met me on the
porch."

Mr. Sloane, raising himself on one elbow to take the restoring drink
from Jarvis, looked across the glass at his cross-examiner.

"I put the mail in the basket on the hall table," he said in high-keyed
endeavour to express withering contempt. "If it had been for me, Jarvis
would have brought it to me later. I seldom carry my reading glasses
about the house with me."

Hastings, subjecting the pallid Jarvis to severe scrutiny, asked him:

"Was that grey letter addressed to--whom?"

"I didn't see it," replied Jarvis, scarcely polite.

"And yet, it's your business to inspect and deliver t