g
yourself to shield some one else."

His expressive face was on its guard in a moment. He ceased his restless
pacing, pausing impressively before me.

"I give you my word as a gentleman--I do not know who killed Mr.
Fleming, and that when I first saw him dead, my only thought was that he
had killed himself. He had threatened to, that day. Why, if you think I
killed him, you would have to think I robbed him, too, in order to find
a motive."

I did not tell him that that was precisely what Hunter _did_ think. I
evaded the issue.

"Mr. Wardrop, did you ever hear of the figures eleven twenty-two?" I
inquired.

"Eleven twenty-two?" he repeated. "No, never in any unusual connection."

"You never heard Mr. Fleming use them?" I persisted.

He looked puzzled.

"Probably," he said. "In the very nature of Mr. Fleming's position, we
used figures all the time. Eleven twenty-two. That's the time the
theater train leaves the city for Bellwood. Not what you want, eh?"

"Not quite," I answered non-committally and began to wind my watch. He
took the hint and prepared to leave.

"I'll not keep you up any longer," he said, picking up his raincoat. He
opened the door and stared ruefully down at the detective in the hall
below. "The old place is queer without Miss Jane," he said irrelevantly.
"Well, good night, and thanks."

He went heavily along the hall and I closed my door, I heard him pass
Margery's room and then go back and rap lightly. She was evidently
awake.

"It's Harry," he called. "I thought you wouldn't worry if you knew I was
in the house to-night."

She asked him something, for--

"Yes, he is here," he said. He stood there for a moment, hesitating over
something, but whatever it was, he decided against it.

"Good night, dear," he said gently and went away.

The little familiarity made me wince. Every unattached man has the same
pang now and then. I have it sometimes when Edith sits on the arm of
Fred's chair, or one of the youngsters leaves me to run to "daddy." And
one of the sanest men I ever met went to his office and proposed to his
stenographer in sheer craving for domesticity, after watching the wife
of one of his friends run her hand over her husband's chin and give him
a reproving slap for not having shaved!

I pulled myself up sharply and after taking off my dripping coat, I went
to the window and looked out into the May night. It seemed incredible
that almost the same hour the previous night li