"If Braceway won't let matters drop as they are now, he'll insist on following Morley to Washington. If he does, I'm going, too; and we might as well get it over."
"You're not afraid our case won't hold water, are you?"
"No. The case stands on its own feet. There's no power on earth that could break it down."
"Well, then, why——"
"I'll tell you why, chief. I've been set down here with this tuberculosis. You know what that means, at least, several years of convalescence. Why shouldn't I make use of those years, develop a business in which I can engage while I'm here? This murder case has opened the door for me, and I'm going to take advantage of it. Lawrence Bristow, consulting detective and criminologist. How does that strike you?"
"Fine!" said Greenleaf heartily. "And you're right. Your reputation's made; and, even if you had to be away from Furmville a few days at a time now and then, it wouldn't hurt your health."
The chief's tendency to claim credit for Carpenter's arrest had disappeared. He liked Bristow, was impressed by his quiet effectiveness.
"I'm glad you think I can get away with it," the lame man said, much pleased. "Now, you see why I want to go to Washington with Braceway. It's merely to keep my hold on this case. If you say I'm entitled to the credit for reading the riddle, I'm going to see that I get the credit."
"All right. I'll let Morley know he can go tonight, and he needn't worry about our troubling him."
"Thanks. The sooner we gather up every little strand of evidence, the better it will be."
Greenleaf prepared to leave. As he stood up, he caught sight of a young man coming up Manniston Road.
"A stranger," he announced. "Another detective?"
Bristow glanced down the street.
"No. It's a newspaper correspondent. That's my guess. The Washington and New York papers have had time to send special men here by now for feature stories."
The young man went briskly up the steps of No. 5.
"I was right," concluded Bristow. "If you run into him, chief, do the talking for the two of us. Just tell him I refuse to be interviewed."
"Why?" demanded Greenleaf. "An interview would give you good advertising."
"There's just one sort of publicity that's better than talking," said Bristow laconically; "aloofness, mystery. It makes people wonder, keeps them talking."
It happened as Bristow had thought. Greenleaf, going down the walk, met the stranger, special correspondent of a New York paper. They had a short colloquy, the newspaper man looking frequently toward No. 9, and finally they turned and went down Manniston Road.
Bristow, leaving his chair to go back to the sleeping porch, saw Miss Kelly come out of No. 5 and hurry in his direction. He waited for her.
"Miss Fulton wants to see you, Mr. Bristow," said the nurse. "She asked me to tell you it's very important."
He was frankly surprised.
"Wants to see me, Miss Kelly?"
"Yes; at once, if you can come."
"Why, certainly."
He stepped into the house and got his hat.
"How is Miss Fulton?" he inquired, descending the steps with Miss Kelly.
"Much better. In fact, she seemed in good spirits and fairly strong as soon as her father and Mr. Withers left. That was about half an hour ago."
"Perhaps, their departure helped her," he suggested, smiling. "Often one's family is annoying—we may love them, but we want them at a lovable distance."
She gave him an approving smile.
"What about the medicine?" he asked as they reached the door. "Has she had much bromide—stuff like that?"
"No; not today. Her mind's perfectly clear."
He put one more question:
"Do you happen to know why she wishes to see me?"
"I think it's something about her brother-in-law, Mr. Withers."
"Ah! I wonder whether——"
He did not finish the sentence, but, stepping into the living room, waited for Miss Kelly to announce his arrival.
The quick mechanism of his mind informed him that he was about to be confronted with some totally unexpected situation.
Chapter XVII.
Miss Fulton’s Revelation
Prepared as he was for surprise, his emotion, when he was ushered into Miss Fulton's room, was little short of amazement. The girl was transformed. Instead of a spoiled child, with petulant expression, he beheld a calm, well controlled woman who greeted him cordially with a smile. Overnight, it seemed, she had developed into maturity.
Wearing a simple, pale blue negligée, and propped up in bed, as she had been the day before, she had now in her attitude nothing of the weakness she had shown during his former interview with her. For the first time, he saw that she was a handsome woman, and it was no longer hard for him to realize why Braceway had been in love with her. He waited for her to explain why he had been summoned.
"I've taken affairs into my own hands—that is, my affairs," she said. "There's something you should know."
"If there is anything——" he began the polite formula.
"First," she told him, "I'd better explain that father ordered me to discuss the—my sister's death with nobody except Judge Rogers. You know who he is, the attorney here. Father and George have retained him. I haven't seen him yet. I wanted to give you certain facts. I know you'll make the just, proper use of them."
"Then I was right? You do know——"
"Yes," she said, exhibiting, so far as he could observe, no excitement whatever; "I was not asleep the whole of Monday night. I narrowly escaped seeing my sister die—seeing her murdered."
Her lips trembled momentarily, but she took hold of herself remarkably. A trifle incredulous, he watched her closely.
"I heard a noise in the living room. It wasn't a loud noise. The fact that it was guarded, or cautious, waked me up, I think. Before I got out of bed, I looked at my watch. It was somewhere in the neighbourhood of one o'clock—I'm not sure how many minutes after one. As I reached the little hallway opening into the dining room, I heard a man's voice.
"He was not talking aloud. It was a hurried sort of whisper. It seemed as if the voice, when at its natural pitch,
