Hughes bridled with satisfaction, and eagerly watched Stone's further procedure.

Fibsy took his way to the garage, and began a desultory conversation with Campbell, the chauffeur.

"Who's the college perfessor?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at a long, lank figure, hovering toward them.

"Him? He's Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yep."

"Don't babble on so! I don't want all his family history. Quit talking, can't you?"

As Campbell had said only a few monosyllables, and as he had the Scotchman's national sense of humor, he merely stared at his interlocutor.

"Oh, well, since you're in a chattering mood, spill a little more. Who's he, in America?"

"Sam? Oh, he's Agnes' half-brother, and he's half-witted."

"H'm. Sort of fractional currency! Is he--is he exclusive?"

"Eh?"

"Never mind, thank you. I'll be my own intelligence office. Hey, Sam, want some chewin' gum?"

The lackwit turned to the bright-faced boy who followed him, and favored him with a vacant stare.

"Gum, sonny, gum, you know. Chew-chew! Eh?"

Sam held out his hand, and Fibsy put a paper package in it.

"Wait a minute," he went on, leading Sam out of earshot of the garage.

"What's that song I heard you singing a bit ago?"

"No, sir! Sam don't sing that more."

"Oh, yes, Sam does. It's a pretty song. Come now, I like your voice. Sam sings pretty--very pretty."

The wheedlesome tone and smile did the trick, and the foolish boy broke out in a low, crooning song:

"It is a sin to steal a pin, As well as any greater thing."

"Good!" Fibsy applauded. "Where'd you learn that, Samivel?"

"Long ago, baby days."

"And why do you sing it to-day?"

A look of fear came over Sam's face, followed by a smile of cunning. He looked like a leering gargoyle, as grotesque as any on Notre Dame.

"You know why?" he whispered.

"Oh, yes, I know why. But we won't tell anybody, will us?"

"No, not anybody."

"Who'd you steal it from?"

"From chair, he, he! From old Mister Chair."

"Yes, of course," and Fibsy's heart beat fast. "The big, fat Mister Chair?"

"Yes, big fat Mister Chair!"

"In Mrs. Pell's room?"

"Yes, yes, in Missy Pell's room."

But Fibsy began to think the clouded intellect was merely repeating words spoken to it, and he asked, "Who put pin in chair for Sam to steal?"

"Who?" and the blank, foolish face was inquiring.

"Campbell?"

"No, no! not Campbell!"

"No, no, it was Agnes."

"No! not Agnes----"

"Who, then?" Fibsy held his breath, lest he disturb the evident effort the poor lad was making to remember.

"Missy Iris," Sam said at last, "yes, Missy Iris, Missy Iris--yes, Missy----"

"There, there," Fibsy shut him up, "don't say that again. Did you see her?"

"Yes, by window. Then, Sam steal pin. It is a sin to steal a pin. It is a sin to steal a pin--it is----"

But Fibsy set to work to turn the poor befuddled mind in another direction, and after a time he succeeded.

CHAPTER XIV

FIBSY AND SAM

"There are two things to find," Fleming Stone said, "the murderer and the pin. There are two things to find out, how the murderer got away, and why the pin is valuable."