scarce a seam showed.
"He came up through this hole in the fireplace," said Stone, almost as if talking to himself, "very soon after Miss Dupuy went upstairs at half-past ten. Before Mr. Carleton arrived at quarter after eleven, the murderer had finished his work, and had departed by this same means."
While the others stood seemingly struck dumb by this revelation, Kitty excitedly flew to the fireplace and tried to raise the iron lid, but the andirons were in the way. Rob set them aside for her, while Stone said quietly, "Those andirons were probably not there that night?"
"No," exclaimed Kitty; "they had been taken away, because we expected to fill the fireplace with flowers the next day."
"But how could anybody get in the cellar?" asked Miss Morton, looking bewildered.
"The cellar is never carefully locked," said Fleming Stone. "I came downstairs early this morning, and before breakfast Harris had shown me all through the cellar. He admits that several windows are always left open for the sake of ventilation, and claims that the carefully locked door in the hall at the head of the cellar stairs precludes all danger from that direction."
"But I don't understand," said Mr. Fairbanks perplexedly. "If that opening is an ash-chute, such as I have in my own house, it is all bricked up down below, with the exception of a small opening for the removal of the ashes, and it would be quite impossible for any one to climb up through it."
"But this one isn't bricked up," said Fleming Stone. "It was originally intended to be enclosed; but it seems this fireplace is rarely used. Harris tells me that the late Mr. Van Norman used to talk about having the chute completed, and having a fire here more often. But the library wood fire was more attractive as a family gathering place, and this formal room was used only on state occasions. However, as you see," and Mr. Stone raised the iron lid again, "this opens directly into the cellar, and, I repeat, formed the means of entrance for the murderer of Madeleine Van Norman."
Fleming Stone's voice and manner were far from triumphant or jubilant at his discovery. He seemed rather to state the fact with regret, but as if it must be told.
Mr. Fairbanks looked amazed and thoughtful, but Rob Fessenden was frankly incredulous.
"Mr. Stone," he said respectfully, "I am sure you know what you're talking about, but will you tell me how a man could get up through that hole? It doesn't seem to me that a small-sized boy could squeeze through."
Fleming Stone took a silver-cased tape-measure from his pocket, and handed it to Rob without a word.
Eagerly stooping on the hearth, Rob measured the oval opening in the iron plate. Although the rectangular plate was several inches larger each way, the oval opening measured exactly nine and one-half inches by thirteen and one-half inches.
"Who could get through that?" he inquired, as he announced the figures. "I'm sure I couldn't."
"And Schuyler Carleton is a larger man than you are," observed Mr. Fairbanks.
"That lets Tom Willard out, too," said Rob, with a slight smile; "for he's nearly six feet tall, and weighs more than two hundred pounds."
"The only man I know of," said Mr. Fairbanks thoughtfully, "who could come up through that hole is Slim Jim."
"Who is Slim Jim?" cried Rob quickly. "Go for him; he is the man!"
"Not so fast," said Mr. Fairbanks. "Slim Jim is a noted burglar and a suspected murderer, but he is safely in prison at present and has been for some months."
"But he may have escaped," exclaimed Rob. "Are you sure he hasn't?"
"I haven't heard anything about him of late; but if he is or has been away from the prison, it can be easily found out."
"Isn't it unlikely," said Fleming Stone quietly, "that a noted burglar should enter a house and commit murder, without making any attempt to steal?"
"He may have been frightened away by the sound of Schuyler's latch-key," suggested Rob, and Kitty looked at him with pride in his ingenuity, and thought how much cleverer he was, after all, than the celebrated Fleming Stone.
Fessenden urged Mr. Fairbanks to go at once and look up the whereabouts of Slim Jim, and the detective was strongly inclined to go.
"Go, by all means, if you choose," said Fleming Stone pleasantly. "There's really nothing further to do here in the way of examination of the premises. I do not mind saying that my own suspicions are not directed toward Slim Jim, but my own suspicions are by no means an infallible guide. I will ask you, though, gentlemen, not to say anything about this ash-chute matter to-day. I consider it is my right to request this. Of course you can find out all about Slim Jim without stating how he entered the house."
The two men promised not to say anything about the ash-chute to anybody, and hot upon the trail of the suspected burglar they went away.
Miss Morton excused herself, and upon Kitty French fell the burden of entertaining Mr. Stone. Nor was this young woman dismayed at the task.
Though not loquacious, the detective was an easy and pleasant talker, and he seemed quite ready to converse with the girl as if he had no other occupation on hand.
"How wonderful you are!" said Kitty, clasping her hands beneath her chin as she looked at the great man. "To think of your spotting that fireplace thing right away! Though of course I never should have thought of anybody squeezing up through there. And Rob and I spent a whole morning searching these rooms for clues, and that was only the day after it happened."
"What an opportunity!" Stone seemed interested. "And didn't you find anything—not anything?"
"No, not a thing. We were so disappointed. Oh, yes, Rob did find one little thing, but it was so little and so silly that I guess he forgot all about it."
"What was it?"
"Why, I've almost forgotten the name. Oh, yes, Rob said it was a cachou—a little silver thing, you know, like a tiny pill. Rob says some men eat them after they've been smoking. But he asked all the men that ever came here, and they all said they didn't use them. Maybe the burglar dropped it."
"Maybe he did. Where did you find it?"
"Rob found it. It was right in that corner by the mantel, just near the fireplace."
Fleming Stone stood up. "Miss French," said he, "if it is any satisfaction to you, you may know that you have helped me a great deal in my work. Will you excuse me now, as I find I have important business elsewhere?"
Kitty smiled and bowed politely, but after Mr. Stone had left her she wondered what she could have said or done that helped him; and she wondered, too, what had caused that unspeakably sad look in his eyes as he went away.
Chapter XXIV.
A Confession
Mr. Taylor, the landlord of the Mapleton Inn, showed a pleased surprise when Fleming Stone walked into his hotel and approached the desk. The men had never met, but everybody in Mapleton knew that Fleming Stone was in town, and had heard repeated and accurate descriptions of his appearance.
