, except that Hall has some sort of hold
over her,--a promise or something,--that she can't escape."

My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall,
but I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I was determined
to go on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her.

"You see," Parmalee went on, "you suspect Hall, only because you're
prejudiced against him."

"Good gracious!" I exclaimed; "that's an awful thing to say, Parmalee.
The idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn't
admire his personality! And besides, it isn't true. If I suspect Hall,
it's because I think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, and
more than all, because he refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night."

"But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit murder would
fix up his alibi first of all. He would know that his refusal to tell
his whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. No, to my mind it's
Hall's refusal to tell that stamps him as innocent."

"Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he could
invent, for it stamps him innocent at once."

"Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, Burroughs,
that you haven't the least shred of proof against Hall, and you know
it. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a strong desire that
he should be the villain, are all very well. But they won't go far as
evidence in a court of law."

I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I had no
proof whatever that Gregory Hall was at all implicated in Mr. Crawford's
death. To be sure he might have worn a yellow rose, and he might have
brought the late newspaper, but there was no evidence to connect
him with those clues, and too, there was the gold bag. It was highly
improbable that that should have been brought to the office and left
there by a man.

However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to Mr.
Goodrich until I had had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, and I
promised to undertake that the next morning.

After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy reflections.
Everything seemed to point one way. Every proof, every suspicion and
every hint more or less implicated Miss Lloyd.

But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I could
for her, and as to do this, I must gain her confidence, and even
liking, I resolved to approach the subject the next day with the utmost
t