over
again. I'm going along this way to see the Superintendent, and you can
come with me if you like."

Cyril's face went a dull brick-red at Cleek's bantering tone, and his
lips twitched. He swung into step beside Cleek as they traversed the
long hall toward the library.

"They've been telling me," he reiterated, "that you think my stepbrother
Ross killed Father last night, and----"

"Who's 'they,' may I ask?"

"Oh--Mother--Miss Dowd, Cynthia--the whole bally lot of 'em. Said you'd
threatened to arrest Ross and put--put him in prison. But it isn't true,
sir, is it?"

Cleek looked down at the eager young face, and sighed.

"Partly," he returned, "and partly not. I've made no accusation, Cyril,
but--things point very blackly to your brother, and it will take pretty
strong evidence to say he is innocent at this juncture of the case, at
any rate. There are--others--whom I doubt, but at the present moment
doubts are all that can be expected of me. Certainties will follow
later.... Now, look here, you can help considerably. Tell me, who's been
tinkering with the electric switches in the library lately?"

Of a sudden the boy's face went red and whity by turns. Then he averted
his head and pretended to inspect a fly that was crawling upon the
opposite wall.

"Er--I don't really know," he replied in a confused voice. "I haven't
the faintest----"

"You do!" Cleek had caught him by the shoulders and whirled him around
so that eye met eye squarely, and he saw that the boy dropped his.
"Come, now. Play the game. I can't expect to find the true murderer
unless you tell the truth. Listen to me, Cyril. Was it your brother
Ross?"

Came a long silence, followed by a quickly drawn breath. Then:

"_I_ have."

"You? What the dickens did you do? Tell me all about it, quickly. I
found a bit of flexible wire upon the carpet yesterday morning when I
was looking over the house with your stepsister, and came to the
conclusion that someone had been altering the lights. And it was you,
was it?"

Again the flushed cheeks and quickly drawn breath. Oh, this quixotic
family!--that muddled a decent man up in trying to do his duty by their
perpetual affections and efforts to shield one another.

"Yes--and no. It was the day before yesterday. Ross and Mr. Tavish were
in the library going over some land accounts and looking at the weekly
wages bill, which is part of Ross's work for Father that he's been doing
the past two years. I was