be decent to him. No
third degree manners,--that won't help with McClellan Thorpe."

They all remained awaiting Thorpe's return. Shelby busied himself
looking over some of Blair's books and papers, while Benjamin Crane
talked to Dr. Middleton.

He rather liked the Medical Examiner, but he did not at all admire
detective Weston or his ways. So he endeavored to give Doctor Middleton
a mental picture of Thorpe, and prepare him for an interview that should
temper justice with mercy, or at least, consideration.

Weston spent the time prowling round Blair's bedroom in search of clews.
But his keen glances could find no single thing that gave any hint of
means or reason for suicide, nor any that suggested an accident.

"Wherefore," he concluded to himself, "it's a murder. No clew, means a
careful removal of any clew,--and a mighty clever criminal at that.
Maybe it wasn't friend Thorpe, but a few words with him will convince me
one way or the other."

Thorpe came, and though his expression was inscrutable and his face set
and stern, it seemed to those who knew him best that he was trying to
hold himself together and not give way to his nervousness.

"Take a seat, Mr. Thorpe," Doctor Middleton said, courteously, after
Crane had introduced them; "we expect from you a straightforward account
of all you can tell us of your experiences this morning."

"Why should my account be other than straightforward?" Thorpe said,
breathing hard, and making an evident effort at self-control. "I have
nothing to conceal, and if I seem distraught, it is, I dare say, not
astonishing."

"Now, Mac," Mr. Crane said, kindly, "don't bristle. We're all your
friends, and we only want you----"

"Good heavens, Mr. Crane, why do you take that conciliatory attitude?
I've no confession to make,-- I-- I didn't kill Blair----"

"Why do you say that?" cried Weston. "Who even hinted that you killed
Mr. Blair? Why do you think anybody killed him?"

"Why do you?" countered Thorpe, turning an angry glance at the
detective.

"I haven't said I did."

"Not in so many words,--but you imply it. I tell you I didn't kill him!
I _didn't_!"

Thorpe was not excited of manner, he was very calm, but his blazing eyes
and quivering mouth, and his intensity, rather than force of speech gave
him the effect of intense excitement.

"Don't deny or assert, Mr. Thorpe," said Middleton, coldly. "Just tell
your story. At what time did you rise?"

"About ten o'clock," w