Part 15 (1/2)

”You did it and you know you did!”

”No--I----” replied Howard weakly.

”These repeated denials are useless!” shouted the captain. ”There's already enough evidence to send you to the chair!”

Howard shook his head helplessly. Weakly he replied:

”This constant questioning is making me dizzy. Good G.o.d! What's the use of questioning me and questioning me? I know nothing about it.”

”Why did you come here?” thundered the captain.

”I've told you over and over again. We're old friends. I came to borrow money. He owed me a few hundred dollars when we were at college together, and I tried to get it. I've told you so many times. You won't believe me. My brain is tired. I'm thoroughly exhausted. Please let me go. My poor wife won't know what's the matter.”

”Never mind about your wife,” growled the captain. ”We've sent for her.

How much did you try to borrow?”

Howard was silent a moment, as if racking his brain, trying to remember.

”A thousand--two thousand. I forget. I think one thousand.”

”Did he say he'd lend you the money?” demanded the inquisitor.

”No,” replied the prisoner, with hesitation. ”He couldn't--he--poor chap--he----”

”Ah!” snapped the captain. ”He refused--that led to words. There was a quarrel, and----” Suddenly leaning forward until his face almost touched Howard's, he hissed rather than spoke: ”You shot him!”

Howard gave an involuntary step backward, as if he realized the trap being laid for him.

”No, no!” he cried.

Quickly following up his advantage, Captain Clinton shouted dramatically:

”You lie! He was found on the floor in this room--dead. You were trying to get out of the house without being seen. You hadn't even stopped to wash the blood off your hands. All you fellers make mistakes. You relied on getting away unseen. You never stopped to think that the blood on your hands would betray you.” Gruffly he added: ”Now, come, what's the use of wasting all this time? It won't go so hard with you if you own up. You killed Robert Underwood!”

Howard shook his head. There was a pathetic expression of helplessness on his face.

”I didn't kill him,” he faltered. ”I was asleep on that sofa. I woke up.

It was dark. I went out. I wanted to get home. My wife was waiting for me.”

”Now I've caught you lying,” interrupted the captain quickly. ”You told the coroner you saw the dead man and feared you would be suspected of his murder, and so tried to get away unseen.” Turning to his men, he added: ”How is that, Maloney? Did the prisoner say that?”

The sergeant consulted his back notes, and replied:

”Yes, Cap', that's what he said.”

Suddenly Captain Clinton drew from his hip pocket the revolver which he had found on the floor, near the dead man's body. The supreme test was about to be made. The wily police captain would now play his trump card.

It was not without reason that his enemies charged him with employing unlawful methods in conducting his inquisitorial examinations.

”Stop your lying!” he said fiercely. ”Tell the truth, or we'll keep you here until you do. The motive is clear. You came for money. You were refused, and you did the trick.”