that he was in the employ of the husband and father of the
murdered woman, and that, therefore, his acts had the endorsement of her
family. What, then, they asked, was the true situation back of the
pursuit and persecution of the bank clerk, Henry Morley?

What possible interest could they have in running him down, in ruining
his standing? What contingency was powerful enough to compel their
approval of Braceway's forcing the conclusion upon the mind of the public
that an ugly scandal had touched Mrs. Withers?

And this question, at first whispered in the gossip in Furmville, had
crept into the newspaper dispatches. The result was a morbid curiosity
generally, and, in the minds of many, a belief that Braceway would fasten
the crime on Morley. There were, however, a few who took the position
that Morley, even if he had not committed the murder, had knowledge of
some fact or facts even more terrible than the crime itself.

Major Ross awaited the two men in a large, bare-walled room on the second
floor of the station house. The night was oppressively warm, and the
tall, narrow windows were thrown open. Like Braceway, Bristow took off
his coat, the absence of it showing plainly the outline of his heavy belt
and steel brace.

Morley was ushered in and given one of the plain, straight-backed chairs
with which the room was furnished. The only other furniture was a deal
table, behind which Braceway, Bristow, and Major Ross sat in lounging
attitudes. The major, aside from his interest in the case, was there
merely as a matter of courtesy, a compliment to Braceway's reputation.

The prisoner, a few feet from them across the table, was suggestive of
neither resistance nor mental alertness. Above his limp collar and
loosened cravat, his face looked haggard and drawn. It was without a
vestige of colour save for the blue shadows under his eyes. There was a
tremor on his lips almost continuously.

Once or twice throughout the whole interview, his eyes brightened
momentarily with a hint of cunning or attempted cunning. Except for these
few flashes, he was manifestly beaten, unnerved, suffering from a
simultaneous desire and inability to weigh and ponder what he said.

Braceway began, in quick, incisive sentences:

"You're up against it, Morley. You know it as well as we do. And we don't
want to trick you or bully you. We're only after the truth. If you'll
tell the truth, it will help you and us. Will you give us a straight
stor