"And why do you not ask the gentleman himself where he was? He probably would be quite ready to tell you." The inflection he gave to these words warned Mr. Byrd to be careful. The truth was, Mr. Goodman was Mr. Mansell's best friend, and as such had his own reasons for not being especially communicative in his regard, to this stranger. The detective vaguely felt this, and immediately changed his manner. "I have no doubt of that, sir," he ingenuously answered. "But Mr. Mansell has had so much to distress him lately, that I was desirous of saving him from the unpleasantness which such a question would necessarily cause. It is only a small matter, sir. A person--it is not essential to state whom--has presumed to raise the question among the authorities in Sibley as to whether Mr. Mansell, as heir of poor Mrs. Clemmens' small property, might not have had some hand in her dreadful death. There was no proof to sustain the assumption, and Mr. Mansell was not even known to have been in the town on or after the day of her murder; but justice, having listened to the aspersion, felt bound to satisfy itself of its falsity; and I was sent here to learn where Mr. Mansell was upon that fatal day. I find he was not in Buffalo. But this does not mean he was in Sibley, and I am sure that, if you will, you can supply me with facts that will lead to a complete and satisfactory _alibi_ for him." But the hard caution of the other was not to be moved. "I am sorry," said he, "but I can give you no information in regard to Mr. Mansell's travels. You will have to ask the gentleman himself." "You did not send him out on business of your own, then?" "No." "But you knew he was going?" "Yes." "And can tell when he came back?" "He was in his place on Wednesday." The cold, dry nature of these replies convinced Mr. Byrd that something more than the sullen obstinacy of an uncommunicative man lay behind this determined reticence. Looking at Mr. Goodman inquiringly, he calmly remarked: "You are a friend of Mr. Mansell?" The answer came quick and coldly: "He is a constant visitor at my house." Mr. Byrd made a respectful bow. "You can, then, have no doubts of his ability to prove an _alibi_?" "I have no doubts concerning Mr. Mansell," was the stern and uncompromising reply. Mr. Byrd at once felt he had received his dismissal. But before making up his mind to go, he resolved upon one further effort. Calling to his aid his full power of acting, he slowly shook his head with a thoughtful air, and presently murmured half aloud and half, as it were, to himself: "I thought, possibly, he might have gone to Washington." Then, with a casual glance at Mr. Goodman, added: "He is an inventor, I believe?" "Yes," was again the laconic response. "Has he not a machine at present which he desires to bring to the notice of some capitalist?" "I believe he has," was the forced and none too amiable answer. Mr. Byrd at once leaned confidingly forward.