Part 23 (2/2)

”You've still got it in your mind that he's the person you want, have you?”

Osborne crossed one leg over the other and put his thumbs in the armholes of his vest.

”I have,” acknowledged he. ”I've had a good bit of experience in these things, and it looks pretty straight to me. We've got the motive, all right, and it's a strong one. I think a good case can be built up around that, the candlestick and the testimony of the maid and nurse. As a matter of fact,” with professional complacence, ”I've seen more than one man go to the chair with less evidence against him.”

”But suppose there were some other little points to be taken into consideration?” asked Ashton-Kirk. ”As I see it, you are restricting yourself to a very narrow field. The sort of life the Bounder led is well known to every one. Do you suppose he was without enemies? Is it not possible that others may have had motives for dealing the blow that ended his life?”

Osborne nodded his head, but his comfortable att.i.tude did not change.

”Sure,” said he. ”That's so. I've no doubt that Tom Burton, in his time, double-crossed a dozen 'guns' that would have been only too glad of a chance to 'get' him. But they didn't do it; no one but the man we've got had the chance that night. They weren't near enough.”

The investigator bent toward the speaker, his eyes steadily upon his face.

”How sure are you of that?” said he.

Osborne took his thumbs from the armholes of his vest

”I'm certain,” he replied. ”There wasn't any one around but them we know of. And that being the case there couldn't be----”

But Ashton-Kirk stopped him.

”Just one moment! Don't you think you are rather offhand in saying 'and that being the case'? Are you quite sure that it is the case?”

Osborne pulled himself up straight in his chair and stared at the investigator. Bat Scanlon, watching and listening, felt a little stir of excitement as he realized what his friend was about.

”He's getting him worked up into a state of doubt,” was Bat's opinion.

”In a minute he'll have him so he won't know what he believes.”

However, there was more than this in the big athlete's thoughts. The way Ashton-Kirk took to bring doubt to the mind of the headquarters man awoke a vague distrust in that of Scanlon. The question of motive filled him with uneasiness--that as to the likelihood of a person other than young Burton being near enough to strike the death blow, turned him cold and helpless.

”You've got something on your mind,” said Osborne to the investigator.

He arose to his feet and stood with shoulders squared and legs very wide apart. ”What's it all about?”

From his coat pocket Ashton-Kirk drew a glittering little revolver.

”I picked this up on the lawn at No. 620 Duncan Street the morning I went over the place,” said he, quietly.

The big headquarters man almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the weapon from his hand, so disturbed was he at this announcement. With greedy eyes he inspected it.

”Smith & Wesson,” said he. ”Twenty-two calibre, five chambers, all loaded.” He stood weighing the revolver in his hand and looking at the investigator. ”Anything more?” he asked.

”I saw undoubted indications of a woman's presence--a woman who had been lurking outside the house and peering in at the window of the room in which the Bounder was killed.”

”A woman!” Quick excitement was in Osborne's face. ”Why, one of the first things I said when the news came in was----” He stopped, a frown wrinkled his brow and he shook his head. ”Indications are one thing, but proof is another,” he said. ”Suppose it was shown that a woman _was_ hanging around outside the house that night?--suppose she carried this gun? What would that get us? She wasn't inside--therefore she couldn't have killed the Bounder. And then, again, the man was killed by a blow on the head. He wasn't shot.”

Ashton-Kirk shrugged his shoulders with the air of one who had relieved himself of a responsibility.

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