y longer here."

The captain beckoned to Maloney.

"Not so fast, young man. Before we go to the station we want to ask you
a few questions. Don't we Maloney?"

The sergeant came over, and the captain whispered something in his ear.
Howard shivered. Suddenly turning to his prisoner, the captain shouted
in the stern tone of command:

"Get up!"

Howard did as he was ordered. He felt he must. There was no resisting
that powerful brute's tone of authority. Pointing to the other side of
the table, the captain went on:

"Stand over there where I can look at you!"

The two men now faced each other, the small table alone separating them.
The powerful electrolier overhead cast its light full on Howard's
haggard face and on the captain's scowling features. Suddenly Maloney
turned off every electric light except the lights in the electrolier,
the glare of which was intensified by the surrounding darkness. The rest
of the room was in shadow. One saw only these two figures standing
vividly out in the strong light--the white-faced prisoner and his
stalwart inquisitor. In the dark background stood Policeman Delaney.
Close at hand was Maloney taking notes.

"You did it, and you know you did it!" thundered the captain, fixing his
eyes on his trembling victim.

[Illustration: "YOU DID IT, AND YOU KNOW YOU DID IT."]

"I did not do it," replied Howard slowly and firmly, returning the
policeman's stare.

"You're lying!" shouted the captain.

"I'm not lying," replied Howard calmly.

The captain glared at him for a moment and then suddenly tried new
tactics.

"Why did you come here?" he demanded.

"I came to borrow money."

"Did you get it?"

"No--he said he couldn't give it to me."

"Then you killed him."

"I did not kill him," replied Howard positively.

Thus the searching examination went on, mercilessly, tirelessly. The
same questions, the same answers, the same accusations, the same
denials, hour after hour. The captain was tired, but being a giant in
physique, he could stand it. He knew that his victim could not. It was
only a question of time when the latter's resistance would be weakened.
Then he would stop lying and tell the truth. That's all he wanted--the
truth.

"You shot him!"

"I did not."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not lying--it's the truth."

So it went on, hour after hour, relentlessly, pitilessly, while the
patient Maloney, in the obscure background, took notes.

CHAPTER X.

The clo