he'd been doin' all day."

"And the next morning you came back along the path," pursued Mr.
Jamieson relentlessly.

"The nex' mornin' I come back along the path an' down where I dun see
the man night befoh, I picked up this here." The old man held out a
tiny object and Mr. Jamieson took it. Then he held it on his extended
palm for me to see. It was the other half of the pearl cuff-link!

But Mr. Jamieson was not quite through questioning him.

"And so you showed it to Sam, at the club, and asked him if he knew any
one who owned such a link, and Sam said--what?"

"Wal, Sam, he 'lowed he'd seen such a pair of cuff-buttons in a shirt
belongin' to Mr. Bailey--Mr. Jack Bailey, sah."

"I'll keep this link, Thomas, for a while," the detective said. "That's
all I wanted to know. Good night."

As Thomas shuffled out, Mr. Jamieson watched me sharply.

"You see, Miss Innes," he said, "Mr. Bailey insists on mixing himself
with this thing. If Mr. Bailey came here that Friday night expecting
to meet Arnold Armstrong, and missed him--if, as I say, he had done
this, might he not, seeing him enter the following night, have struck
him down, as he had intended before?"

"But the motive?" I gasped.

"There could be motive proved, I think. Arnold Armstrong and John
Bailey have been enemies since the latter, as cashier of the Traders'
Bank, brought Arnold almost into the clutches of the law. Also, you
forget that both men have been paying attention to Miss Gertrude.
Bailey's flight looks bad, too."

"And you think Halsey helped him to escape?"

"Undoubtedly. Why, what could it be but flight? Miss Innes, let me
reconstruct that evening, as I see it. Bailey and Armstrong had
quarreled at the club. I learned this to-day. Your nephew brought
Bailey over. Prompted by jealous, insane fury, Armstrong followed,
coming across by the path. He entered the billiard-room wing--perhaps
rapping, and being admitted by your nephew. Just inside he was shot, by
some one on the circular staircase. The shot fired, your nephew and
Bailey left the house at once, going toward the automobile house. They
left by the lower road, which prevented them being heard, and when you
and Miss Gertrude got down-stairs everything was quiet."

"But--Gertrude's story," I stammered.

"Miss Gertrude only brought forward her explanation the following
morning. I do not believe it, Miss Innes. It is the story of a loving
and ingenious woman."

"And-