Florence, even if
they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall.

I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter,
and methodically recording my conclusions. And, while I thought, I
became more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived or
not, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually slain his employer
because he had threatened to disinherit his niece.

Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. Crawford was
already engaged in drawing up the new will, and in order to purloin
it Hall had killed him, not knowing that the other will was already
destroyed. And destroyed it must be, for surely Hall had no reason to
steal or suppress the will that favored Florence.

As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. Hall.

Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted and
unsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone, and learn something from his
manner and appearance.

I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late employer. He
was surrounded with papers, and was evidently very busy, but he greeted
me with a fair show of cordiality, and offered me a chair.

"I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall," I said, "and as I see you're
busy, I will be as brief as possible."

"I've been expecting you," said he calmly. "In fact, I'm rather
surprised that you haven't been here before."

"Why?" said I, eying him closely.

"Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very little,
and I assumed you would question all the members of the household
again."

"I'm not sure that's necessary," I responded, following his example in
adopting a light, casual tone. "I have no reason to suspect that the
servants told other than the exact truth. I have talked to both the
ladies, and now I've only a few questions to put to you."

He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air.

"Have you nailed the criminal?" he asked, with a greater show of
interest than he had before evinced.

"Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we fancy we are on the scent."

"Resent what?" he asked, looking blank.

"I didn't say `resent.' I said, we are on the scent."

"Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead you?"

"In your direction," I said, willing to try what effect bluntness might
have upon this composed young man.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, as if he hadn't heard me.

"Evidences are pointing toward you as the criminal," I said, determined
to disturb his composu