frankly curious and anxious.

"Before you go any further, Braceway," he interrupted testily, "can you
tell us where George Withers is?"

"I can say this much," replied Braceway after a pause: "for reasons best
known to himself, Withers refused to join us here. He could have done so
if he had wished."

What he said sounded like a direct accusation of Withers. Fulton eyed him
incredulously. Bristow took off his coat and settled himself more
comfortably in his chair; he was in for a long story, he thought, and, as
he had expected last night, the dead woman's husband, not Morley, was to
be incriminated.

Greenleaf, lolling back in a rocker near the folding doors of the dining
room, gazed at the ceiling, making a show of lack of interest.

Abrahamson, nearest the porch door, was the only auditor thoroughly
absorbed in the detective's story and at the same time unreservedly
credulous.

"But you know where he is?" Fulton persisted.

"Yes; approximately."

The Jew's sparkling eyes darted from the speaker to the faces of the
others. A pleased smile lifted the corners of his mouth toward the great,
hooked nose. He anticipated unusually pleasant entertainment.

"But I don't want to waste your time," Braceway continued, taking
peculiar care in his choice of words. "When I began work on this case,
I thought either the negro or Morley might be the murderer. I changed
my mind when I came to think about the mysterious fellow, the man with
the brown beard and the gold tooth, the individual who was clever enough
to appear and disappear at will, to vanish without leaving a trace so
long as he operated at night or in the dusk of early evening.

"I agreed with Mr. Fulton that he was the murderer. Not only that, but he
had remarkable ability which he employed for the lowest and most criminal
purposes. I first suspected his identity right after my interviews last
Wednesday with Roddy, the coloured bellboy, and Mr. Abrahamson, the pawn
broker."

"Excuse me," Bristow interposed; "but wasn't it Abrahamson who told you
the bearded man looked like Withers?"

Greenleaf grinned, appreciating the lame man's intention to take the wind
out of Braceway's sails by giving credit to Abrahamson for the
information.

"Yes, he told me that," Braceway answered, as if nettled by the
interruption; and added: "Let me finish my statement, Bristow. You can
discuss it all you please later on. But I'd prefer to get through with it
now.

"Having s