ves, he sprawling his length, she sitting cross-legged, just
below him.

It wasn't easy to make a beginning. I knew it wouldn't do me any
particular good with Worth to dwell on his danger. But I finally managed
to lay fairly before them my case against Eddie Hughes, and I must say
that, as I told it, it sounded pretty strong.

I didn't want to put too much stress on having found my evidence in the
diaries; I knew Worth was as obstinate as a mule, and having said that
he would not stand for any one being prosecuted on their evidence, he'd
stick to it till the skies fell. I called on my memory of those pages,
now unfortunately ashes and not get-atable, and explained that Worth's
father hired Hughes directly after a jail-break at San Jose had roused
the whole country. Three of the four escapes were rounded up in the
course of a few days, but the fourth--known to us as Eddie Hughes--was
safe in Thomas Gilbert's garage, working there as chauffeur, having been
employed without recommendation on the strength of what he could do.

"And the low wages he was willing to take," Worth put in drily. "Old
stuff, Jerry. I wasn't sure till you spilled it just now that my father
was wise to it. But I knew. What you getting at?"

"Just this. When I talked to Hughes that first night I came down here
with you, while we all supposed the death a suicide, he couldn't keep
his resentment against your father, his hatred of him, from boiling over
every time he was mentioned."

"Get on," said Worth wearily. "Father hired a jail-bird that came cheap.
Probably put it to himself that he was giving the man a chance to go
straight."

I glanced up. This was just about what I remembered Thomas Gilbert to
have said in the entry that told of the hiring of Eddie. Worth nodded
grimly at my startled face.

"Eddie's gone straight since then," he filled in. "That is, he's kept
out of jail, which is going straight for Eddie. He'd certainly hate the
man who held him as he's been held for five years. Not motive enough for
murder though."

"There's more. The 1920 diary you gave me last night tells when and why
the extra bolts were put on the study doors. Your father had been
missing liquor and cigars and believed Hughes was taking them."

"Pilfering!" with an expression of distaste. "That doesn't--"

"Hold on!" I stopped him. "On February twelfth your father left money,
marked coin and paper money, as if by accident, on the top of the liquor
cabinet; no