aited the coming of the district attorney, to whose clemency
they must appeal--surely common humanity would counsel protective
measures, secrecy, in the proceeding of the law. The links in the chain
of evidence were now complete, but more than diplomacy would be required
in order to bring about the legal closing of the affair without
precipitating a scandal. Gard's own hasty actions led back to his fear
for Mrs. Marteen, that in turn involved the cause of that suspicion. To
convince the newsmongers that the crime was one of an almost accidental
nature, he felt would be easy. An escaped lunatic had committed the
murder. That revenge lay behind the insane act would be hidden. If
necessary, the authorities of the asylum could be silenced with a golden
gag--but the law?

Neither of the two men, waiting in the silent house, underestimated the
importance of the coming interview.

The night was already far spent, and the expected visitor still delayed.
At length the pale secretary appeared at the door to announce his
coming.

Gard rose from his seat, and extended a welcoming hand to gray-haired,
sharp-featured District Attorney Field.

Brencherly bowed with awkward diffidence.

Gard's manner was ease and cordiality itself, but his heart misgave him.
So much depended upon the outcome of this meeting. He would not let
himself dwell upon its possibilities, but faced the situation with grim
determination.

"Well, Field," he said genially, "let me thank you for coming. You are
tired, I know. I'm greatly indebted to you, but I'm coming straight to
the point. The fact is, we," and he swept an including gesture toward
his companion, "have the whole story of Victor Mahr's death. Brencherly
is a detective in my personal employ." Field bowed and turned again to
his host. "The person of the murderer is in our care," Gard continued.
"But before we make this public--before we draw in the authorities,
there are things to be considered."

He paused a moment. The district attorney's eyes had snapped with
surprise.

"You don't mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you have the key to
that mystery! Have you turned detective, Mr. Gard? Well, nothing
surprises me any more. What was the motive? You've learned that, too, I
suppose?"

"Insanity," said Gard shortly.

"Revenge," said the detective.

"Suppose," said Gard, "a crime were committed by a totally irresponsible
person, would it be possible, once that fact was thoroughly estab