the room of
questions he wanted to ask and information he wanted to gather. Then he
threw the door open, stepped quickly inside, closed the door, and turned
the key.

Lerton was sitting at his desk with his back to the door. He made no
move until he heard the key turned. Then he whirled around in his desk
chair.

"I--Great Scott, Farland, how you startled me!" he exclaimed. "I thought
it was my secretary."

"Pardon me for butting in this way, but I am in a deuce of a hurry and
told the boy it was all right," Farland said.

"You'll smash my office discipline doing things like this. But, sit
down, man! What is it now? Has that cousin of mine been acting up again,
or are you going to pester me with a lot of fool questions about things
I don't know anything about?"

Farland had seated himself in the chair at the end of the desk, within
four feet of George Lerton. He had tossed his hat to a table and twisted
the cigar into one corner of his mouth. Now he stared Lerton straight in
the eyes.

"You look like a madman!" Lerton said. "Why on earth are you looking at
me like that? You look as if you were ill----"

The expression in Farland's face made him stop, and he appeared to be a
bit disconcerted.

"Why did you kill Rufus Shepley?" Jim Farland demanded suddenly in a
voice that seemed to sting.

Lerton's face went white for an instant. His jaw dropped and his eyes
bulged.

"Are--are you insane?" he gasped. "What on earth do you mean by this?
I'll call a clerk and----"

"The door is locked," Farland said, taking the automatic from his
pocket. "You raise your voice, touch a button or make any move that I do
not like, and I'll plug you and say afterward that I had placed you
under arrest and had to shoot when you tried to escape. Answer my
question, Lerton! You are at the end of your rope! Why did you kill
Rufus Shepley and then try to hang the crime on your cousin, Sidney
Prale?"

"This is preposterous!" Lerton exclaimed.

"Oh, I've got the goods on you, Lerton! I wouldn't be here talking like
this if I didn't! You're going to the electric chair!"

Lerton laughed rather nervously. "I always thought that you were a good
detective, Jim, but I am beginning to have doubts now," he said. "What
has put such an idea into your head?"

"Facts gathered and welded together," Farland told him. "Don't try to
carry out the bluff any longer, Lerton. And don't call me Jim. I never
allow murderers to get familiar with me!"