indicated, and saw the burly figure of
Osborne, comfortably installed in an easy chair, reading a newspaper.

"Hello," said he, sitting erect. "That you, Scanlon?"

"Me, with a friend." Bat grinned, highly entertained. "He wants to have
a little talk with you, I think."

Osborne examined the figure before him attentively. Ashton-Kirk leaned
against the office rail, his hands in his pockets, the rat-like thief to
the life. The detective examined him carefully, but no ray of
recognition came into his face. Then, like throwing off a garment,
Ashton-Kirk allowed the mannerisms he had assumed to drop from him.
Osborne at once sat erect with a laugh of pleasure at his own lack of
penetration.

"Good!" said he. "You almost fooled me." He arose and shook the
criminologist's hand. "But what's the idea?"

"I've just been paying a little visit," replied Ashton-Kirk. He seated
himself upon the edge of a desk. "Anything new?" he asked.

"Not much. We've still got young Burton, of course, but he's about as
close-mouthed a proposition as I ever had anything to do with. He says
he isn't guilty, but that's all he _will_ say. We've given our evidence
to the district attorney's office, and they'll pass it on to the Grand
Jury in a few days."

"You've still got it in your mind that he's the person you want, have
you?"

Osborne crossed one leg over the other and put his thumbs in the
armholes of his vest.

"I have," acknowledged he. "I've had a good bit of experience in these
things, and it looks pretty straight to me. We've got the motive, all
right, and it's a strong one. I think a good case can be built up around
that, the candlestick and the testimony of the maid and nurse. As a
matter of fact," with professional complacence, "I've seen more than one
man go to the chair with less evidence against him."

"But suppose there were some other little points to be taken into
consideration?" asked Ashton-Kirk. "As I see it, you are restricting
yourself to a very narrow field. The sort of life the Bounder led is
well known to every one. Do you suppose he was without enemies? Is it
not possible that others may have had motives for dealing the blow that
ended his life?"

Osborne nodded his head, but his comfortable attitude did not change.

"Sure," said he. "That's so. I've no doubt that Tom Burton, in his
time, double-crossed a dozen 'guns' that would have been only too glad
of a chance to 'get' him. But they didn't do it; no one