ps thirstily. Against his will
Garth applied the method he knew would bring the quickest result with
such a man. He grasped the stooped shoulders. He shouted:

"Why did you lie when I asked you who was in the house at the time of
the murder?"

"Eh? Eh?" the old man quavered.

"You're not as deaf as that. Where's your daughter now?"

"My ears!" the old servant whined. "I can't hear, sir."

"All right," Garth shouted. "If you want to go to the lockup and your
daughter too, stay as deaf as you please."

He wasn't prepared for the revolting success that came to him. McDonald
clutched at one of the window curtains and hid his twitching face in its
folds, while sobs, difficult and sickening, tore from his throat,
shaking his bent shoulders.

"God knows! I haven't seen her since I went to bed last night. I thought
she'd gone out."

He glanced up, his face grimacing.

"Don't you think she did it. Don't you think--"

"First of all," Garth said, "I want her picture."

"I haven't any," McDonald cried.

But Garth hadn't missed the man's instinctive gesture towards his watch
pocket. Then, whether he actually knew anything or not, he suspected his
daughter and sought to protect her. Against his protests Garth took the
watch and, as he had foreseen, found a photograph in the case. The
picture was not of a young woman, but the face was still attractive in
an uncompromising fashion. It was this hardness, this determination
about the picture that made Garth decide that the original, under
sufficient provocation, would be capable of killing.

"For her sake and yours, McDonald," Garth said, "answer one thing
truthfully. Did she fancy herself any more than a superior servant? Had
she formed for Mr. Taylor any silly attachment?"

McDonald's reply was quick and assured.

"To Mr. Taylor she was only a trusted servant, sir, and she knew her
place."

The whirring of a motor suggested that an automobile had drawn up before
the house. Garth slipped the photograph in his pocket.

"If that is Mrs. Taylor arriving," he said with an uncomfortable desire
to shirk the next few minutes, "the news of her husband's death might
come easier from you."

"I telephoned Mr. Reed," McDonald said. "He's an old friend of Mr. and
Mrs. Taylor's. I told him about the telegram, and he's probably met her
and brought her home."

"I will be here," Garth said, "if she wishes to speak to me."

CHAPTER XVII

THE KNIFE BY THE LIFELESS HAND