“Not so’s you’d notice it. But I’m going to do a little sleuthing on the side and if I find out anything that will help justice along, I promise to tell you,—let the chips fall where they may.” “I haven’t any too much faith in Moore’s protestations,” Corson confided to Gibbs. “He’s crazy to be a detective, but he’s afraid he’ll catch his own girl in his net. That’s the truth in a nutshell. I do think, though, he’d be good help to us, for he knows all about this house and its occupants, and I can’t help thinking the murderers belong here.” “I don’t think so,” returned Gibbs. “I’m sure they are rank outsiders. They were with him during those missing two hours and they followed him home, hoping to get what they were after,—black-mail, most likely, and then at the last minute opportunity presented itself and they killed him.” “Must have been prepared for it, as they had a weapon, used it deftly, and carried it off.” “They did that, and there’s an important clew. None of those little chorus babes could have stabbed with that deft touch, which the doctor vows shows skilled medical or surgical knowledge.” “Maybe, and maybe it was a chance blow. Well, I’m going off on a new tack. I’m going up to see the dead man’s people and get, if I can, some new angle on the case.” Corson went up to the Prall apartment and found the members of that household in a high state of excitement. Miss Letitia Prall paused in what was evidently an angry harangue and somewhat grudgingly accorded a greeting to the caller. “Must you have an interview just now, Mr Corson?” she asked, acidly. “I’m sure you know all we can tell you.” “I’m not sure of that, Miss Prall. There are, I think, some points yet to be cleared up.” “The whole case is yet to be cleared up. I can’t see that you detectives have solved any part of the puzzle.” “I doubt it can be solved in parts. I think we must ferret about here and there and at last we will strike the truth all at once.” “Well, can’t you go and strike it somewhere else?” spoke up the pert voice of Eliza Gurney. “We have much to attend to, with funeral arrangements and business matters.” “As to business matters, you are sole heir, I understand, Mr Bates?” “Yes, I am so informed by the lawyer who has my uncle’s will in his keeping,” answered Richard, with an air of cold politeness. “And you will take up the Bun business?” “He will not,” Miss Prall replied for him. “He will devote himself to his great work of inventing—Mr Bates is a genius and now he will have the means and the opportunity to carry on his life work.” “Just so. And you will be getting married?” “Of course he will,” Miss Prall still gave the responses; “not at present, of course, but as soon as he finds the right young lady——” “He won’t have to look far afield for that!” “Leave me out of the conversation,” Richard growled. “These private affairs of mine in no way affect your detective work.”