ng after supper."

"What time did he return--on this evening?"

"I do not know."

"Do you mean that?" Barrant's tone was incredulous.

"I do." The impulse which had dictated his previous answer sprang from the
thought that the foolish females downstairs could not contradict it, and
he adhered calmly to the course now he was committed to it.

"What time did Thalassa come for you from Flint House with the news that
your brother was dead?"

"I do not know the exact time. He called at the police station first."

"Had not your son returned by then?"

"I am unable to inform you. He frequently goes straight to his room when
he returns from an evening walk."

"Then you do not know whether he was in or out when you left the house?"

"I assumed he was in, as it was after his usual time for returning."

"You did not go to his room, to see?"

"No. I did not wish to disturb him."

Barrant looked as though there was only one possible construction to be
placed on these replies, but he still did not utter the question which
Austin feared and dreaded most. In a harsh peremptory voice he said--"Show
me your son's room."

In those words he stood revealed as one with all the resources of the law
at his back, able to issue commands which other people must obey. The
rights of liberty and freedom were in his hands. It needed not that to
show Austin Turold how near he stood to the edge of the precipice. The
strain of the interview had told on him. This was the first actual buffet
of the beast's paw. He led the way to his son's room and watched Barrant
go through his intimate belongings with the feeling that intelligence was
a flimsy shield against the brutal force of authority. The law in search
of prey cared nothing for such civilized refinements as intellect or
self-respect. As well try to stop a tiger with a sonnet.

The search revealed nothing, and Barrant went away without another word. A
moment later Austin heard him questioning the frightened women on the
floor beneath. Listening intently, he made out a fragment of the
conversation, sufficient to remove all doubts of the origin of the
detective's present visit. Austin's mind flew to the episode he had seen
from his window on the previous afternoon. Why in the name of heaven had
this Brierly woman been such a fool? Why had she not come to him with her
story, and asked for money to shut her mouth? Why was she sobbing and
snivelling downstairs now, when it was too late?