ut this murder?"

"Yes."

"Very well!" snorted Mowbray, rising like a jumping-jack. "Go--go to the
North Pole if you wish. I'm through! I can't treat a man who defies my
orders and advice. Good morning, sir."

Bristow gave him no answer, and he ran down the steps and threw himself
into his car.

"Mistuh Bristow, Lucy's done come," said Mattie, at the living room door.

Bristow started to leave his chair, but changed his mind.

"Tell her to wait a few minutes," he said.

He began to think and to determine just what he wanted to find out from
Lucy, what she would say and what he wanted her to say. It would not do
to question her before he felt sure of what she knew and what she must
confess. He rocked gently in his chair, going over several times the
evidence he desired. His face was hard-set, almost like marble, as he
stared at the mountains. He was thinking harder at that moment than he
had done at any time since the murder.

He had it now. She had given Perry the key to the Withers kitchen--or,
better still, Perry had taken it from her--and she remembered every
detail of it, his departure from her house and his return with the key.
That was what she had to confess. Inevitably, he argued, that would be
her story, or else she would have no story at all.

He thought of Braceway. He made now no secret of the fact that a struggle
between himself and the Atlanta man was on--not openly, but thoroughly
understood by both of them--a fight for supremacy, a contest in which he
sought to convict Perry while Braceway worked for the conviction of
Morley.

Braceway had the added incentive of wanting to run down the man who had
destroyed his friend's home life; and Braceway believed that Morley and
Morley's money entanglements had, in some way, caused the tragedy.

Well, he, Bristow, would see about that! He knew he had the best of the
argument so far--and he looked forward to a double pleasure: the applause
that would come to him as the result of Perry's conviction, and his own
personal gratification at besting Braceway at his own game.

He went into the unused bedroom and told Mattie to send Lucy Thomas to
him there. While he waited, he closed the two windows.

CHAPTER XIII

LUCY THOMAS TALKS

Lucy came slowly into the room and stood near the door. She was of the
peculiar-looking negress type sometimes seen in the South--light of
complexion, with hard, porcelain-like blue eyes and kinky hair which,
instead