you only what is fair, Mr. Case. But I
never take a case, unless--"

"Any request you have to make is already granted."

"Unless I can first interview the person who stands accused of the
crime."

"You can see Miss Langmore at any time. I told her that I was coming
to town to interview you, and that I would bring you back with me, if
you would come. I told her what a wonderful man you were and what you
had done for others. I think it cheered her a little, although she was
terribly cast down."

"You must not promise too much on my account, young man. I am no
wizard, and I cannot perform the impossible, much as I might wish to do
so."

"But you will come?"

"Yes, I will come."

"At once?" cried Raymond Case impatiently.

"At once."

CHAPTER III

MARGARET LANGMORE

As Raymond Case had said, the Langmore mansion was a large one, setting
in the midst of an extensive lawn, sprinkled here and there with maples
and oaks and fine flowering bushes. The hedge in front was well kept
and the side fences were also in good repair. In the rear was a stable
and also an automobile shed, for the late master of this estate had
been fond of a dash in his runabout when time permitted. Down by the
brook, back of the stable, was a tiny wharf, where a boat was tied up,
a craft which Margaret Langmore had occasionally taken down to the
river for a row.

The mansion now looked dark and lonesome, although many folks passed on
the highway and whispered to each other that there was the spot where
the gruesome tragedy had been committed. "And to think that the man's
own daughter did it," they would generally add. "Beats all how
bloodthirsty some folks can get. He must have cut her short on money
or something and she was too high-strung to stand it."

"No, it ain't that," another would answer. "She's been flirting around
with a certain young man, a Wall Street gambler, and her mother
wouldn't have it and told her so. That's the real trouble, my way of
thinking."

Inside of the house all was as quiet as a tomb save for the ticking of
the long clock in the lower hall. Below, a single policeman was on
guard, in company with a woman, who had been sent in to help: Upstairs
another woman was stationed, to see that Margaret Langmore might not
take it upon herself to leave for parts unknown.

Margaret sat in her own room, in the wing on the second floor, a dainty
apartment, trimmed in blue and containing all her gir