ted. "Just tell me one or two things."

"Oh, go ahead. You won't stump me!" Granice heard himself say with a
laugh.

"Well--how did you make all those trial trips without exciting your
sister's curiosity? I knew your night habits pretty well at that time,
remember. You were very seldom out late. Didn't the change in your ways
surprise her?"

"No; because she was away at the time. She went to pay several visits in
the country soon after we came back from Wrenfield, and was only in town
for a night or two before--before I did the job."

"And that night she went to bed early with a headache?"

"Yes--blinding. She didn't know anything when she had that kind. And her
room was at the back of the flat."

Denver again meditated. "And when you got back--she didn't hear you? You
got in without her knowing it?"

"Yes. I went straight to my work--took it up at the word where I'd left
off--WHY, DENVER, DON'T YOU REMEMBER?" Granice suddenly, passionately
interjected.

"Remember--?"

"Yes; how you found me--when you looked in that morning, between two and
three... your usual hour...?"

"Yes," the editor nodded.

Granice gave a short laugh. "In my old coat--with my pipe: looked as if
I'd been working all night, didn't I? Well, I hadn't been in my chair
ten minutes!"

Denver uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again. "I didn't know
whether YOU remembered that."

"What?"

"My coming in that particular night--or morning."

Granice swung round in his chair. "Why, man alive! That's why I'm here
now. Because it was you who spoke for me at the inquest, when they
looked round to see what all the old man's heirs had been doing that
night--you who testified to having dropped in and found me at my desk
as usual.... I thought THAT would appeal to your journalistic sense if
nothing else would!"

Denver smiled. "Oh, my journalistic sense is still susceptible
enough--and the idea's picturesque, I grant you: asking the man who
proved your alibi to establish your guilt."

"That's it--that's it!" Granice's laugh had a ring of triumph.

"Well, but how about the other chap's testimony--I mean that young
doctor: what was his name? Ned Ranney. Don't you remember my testifying
that I'd met him at the elevated station, and told him I was on my way
to smoke a pipe with you, and his saying: 'All right; you'll find him
in. I passed the house two hours ago, and saw his shadow against the
blind, as usual.' And the lady with the tootha