"I walked down to the bungalow, but I couldn't hear any noise, couldn't see any light. Finally, I went up to the head of the steps and listened, but there wasn't a sound. Then I went back to the hotel--no; I went first to the station, got my grips, and then went to the hotel."

"Didn't murder or robbery occur to you when you saw those two men on the steps?"

"Well--no; I can't say either occurred to me."

"What did, then?"

"I knew Withers had visited his wife unexpectedly once or twice before, late at night."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I thought he was jealous, suspicious."

"And you also thought these two men you saw were Withers?"

"They might have been one man, the same man," Morley advanced the supposition wearily. The tremor of his hands had gone into his arms; they jerked every few moments. "I saw them at different times.

"I couldn't see that clearly. But--but I think the first one wore a long raincoat, or else he was heavily built. Hearing about the negro the next day, I thought the first figure I'd seen must have been the negro's. The second didn't look very different. He might have had a beard; perhaps, he was a little slenderer. Those are the only differences I remember."

"Did the second wear a raincoat?"

"I thought so."

"And the first had no beard?"

"He might have, but I don't think so."

Bristow paused long enough to let the silence become impressive. Then he broke the stillness with a voice that cracked sharp as a revolver shot.

"Well! What about the struggle at the foot of the steps?"

Morley, startled by the unexpected abruptness, answered shakily.

"I tell you I--I didn't see any struggle. That man, or those men, tried not to make any noise at all. He thought n.o.body saw him."

Braceway took a hand again in the examination, but their combined efforts got nothing further from the tired prisoner.

They tried to shake him with the accusation that he had entered the bungalow Monday night; they told him also they might take him back to Furmville at once, charged with the murder.

"It wouldn't make any difference to me," he said, making a weak attempt to laugh. "It wouldn't matter now. I'm not anxious to live anyhow."

Without warning, utter collapse struck him. He flung himself half-around on his chair so that his arms rested on its back, cradling his face. His body was contorted by gasping sobs, and his feet tapped the floor with the rapidity of those of a man running at top speed.

They left him with Major Ross. On the way back to the hotel, Bristow asked:

"What about Withers' story of his struggle--the 'big, strong man' who flung him down the walk?"

"There must have been another, a third man who came down the steps,"

Braceway answered quietly.

"An a.s.sumption," observed Bristow, "which rather strains my credulity."

Braceway said nothing.

"I believe," Bristow spoke up again, "what the fellow said tonight was true--substantially true."

"Do you?" retorted Braceway, thoroughly non-committal.

"Anyway there remains the problem of who p.a.w.ned the Withers emeralds and diamonds this afternoon."

"It may not be a problem," said Braceway. "It may be that they weren't the Withers stuff at all."

"Ah! I hadn't thought of that."

They entered the hotel and sat down in the lobby, now almost deserted.

"I think," Bristow announced, careful to keep any note of triumph out of his voice, "I'll go back to Furmville in the morning." He yawned and stretched himself. "I'm about all in, weak as a kitten. What are you planning?"

Braceway's chin was thrust forward. He looked belligerent, angry.

"I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow. I intend to run down every clue I have or can find. I'm going to take up every statement he made tonight and dissect it--every point. I want all the facts--all of them."

Bristow turned so as to face him squarely.

"Why don't you go back with me? Why keep on fighting what I've proved?

I think I know why you came to Washington. It wasn't your belief in Morley's guilt. It was your desire to clear Withers. But you know as well as I do that Withers isn't guilty. So, why worry?"

Braceway sprang to his feet.

"Morley isn't out of the woods yet," he said grimly. "This case isn't settled yet, by a long shot. I'm going to stick right here."

He made no reference to Withers.

Bristow went to his room, paid and dismissed Miss Martin, and began to undress. He was more than satisfied with everything that had happened.

He had bested Braceway again, this time finally; his reputation as a "consulting detective" was more than safe; and, knowing now why Braceway had pursued Morley, he would return to Furmville in the morning, his mind thoroughly at ease.

CHAPTER XXIV

MISS FULTON WRITES A LETTER

As long as the public's morbid curiosity clamoured for details of the case, the newspapers provided them lavishly. This curiosity was intensified by two things: first, the search for a murderer after so much almost convincing evidence had been found against the negro, and, second, the duel between Bristow, the amateur, and Braceway, the professional, each bent on making his theory "stand up." The amateur had achieved far more celebrity than he had expected.

It would have been hard to find two men less alike than he and Braceway.

Bristow was capable now and then of manifesting the strength and impressive authority he had exhibited in his questioning of Morley.

Braceway, on the other hand, was always keyed up, dashing, imperious. And he had a kindness of heart, a very live tenderness, such as the lame man never displayed.