lowly from Clayton's face. He hesitated--then sullenly
retraced his steps; hesitated again as he reached the chair, and finally
sat down.

"What--what d'ye mean by this?" he stammered, trying to bluster.

"Just this," said Jimmie Dale. "That I accuse you of the murder of Jake
Metzer--IT WAS YOU WHO MURDERED METZER."

"Good God!" burst suddenly from Carruthers.

"You lie!" yelled Clayton--and again he surged up from his chair.

"That is what Stace Morse said," said Jimmie Dale coolly. "Sit down!"

Then Clayton tried to laugh. "You're--you're having a joke, ain't you?
It was Stace--I can prove it. Come down to headquarters, and I can prove
it. I got the goods on him all the way. I tell you"--his voice rose
shrilly--"it was Stace Morse."

"You are a despicable hound," said Jimmie Dale, through set lips.
"Here"--he handed the revolver over to Carruthers--"keep him covered,
Carruthers. You're going to the CHAIR for this, Clayton," he said, in
a fierce monotone. "The chair! You can't send another there in your
place--this time. Shall I draw you now--true to life? You've been
grafting for years on every disreputable den in your district. Metzer
was going to show you up; and so, Metzer being in the road, you removed
him. And you seized on the fact of Stace Morse having paid a visit to
him this afternoon to fix the crime on--Stace Morse. Proofs? Oh, yes, I
know you've manufactured proofs enough to convict him--if there weren't
stronger proofs to convict YOU."

"Convict ME!" Clayton's lower jaw hung loosely; but still he made
an effort at bluster. "You haven't a thing on me--not a thing--not a
thing."

Jimmie Dale smiled again--unpleasantly.

"You are quite wrong, Clayton. See--here." He took a sheet of paper from
the drawer of his desk.

Clayton reached for it quickly. "What is it?" he demanded.

Jimmie Dale drew it back out of reach.

"Just a minute," he said softly. "You remember, don't you, that in the
presence of Carruthers here, of myself, and of half a dozen reporters,
you stated that you had been alone with Metzer in his room at three
o'clock yesterday, and that it was you--alone--who found the body later
on at nine o'clock? Yes? I mention this simply to show that from your
own lips the evidence is complete that you had an OPPORTUNITY to commit
the crime. Now you may look at this, Clayton." He handed over the sheet
of paper.

Clayton took it, stared at it, turning it over from first one side to
the other