“Mr Vail, he just dropped in, as he was passing by, and he looked round the room, like in idle curiosity. He said, ‘Poor old chap, he was a good sport,’ and went away. That wasn’t so strange, for he often used to drop in for a chat with my master. But Mr Crippen, now, he never came here, that I know of, while Sir Herbert was alive. But the day after he died, Mr Crippen comes with a sort of determined air, and he wants to look round,—and more, he wants to look over Sir Herbert’s papers. Of course, I didn’t let him do that, but it seemed sorta queer,—didn’t it, now?” “Maybe and maybe not,” said Gibbs. “I suspect there might have been a letter from himself that he wanted to get possession of, or something like that. I say, as I have said from the first, if it were not for the written paper, I might have suspected these business men, but I’m sure that’s the very reason Sir Herbert did write the paper, so we would not go off on a wrong tack. It proves to me the determination of his strong mind to lead us in the right direction and not let us pursue the most obvious but mistaken course of looking into the Bun matters.” “I agree with you on the face of things,” said young Bates, with a sigh, “and if you hadn’t mentioned Miss Prall, I’d let you go your own gait, but now you have mentioned her, I shall get into the game myself and spare no effort or expense to dig up the truth! And, first of all, I’m going back to Bob Moore. I don’t think he knows anything more than he’s told, but I do think I can learn more from him now I’ve got my mad up!” “Come on, I’ll go with you,” and Gibbs accompanied the young man to the elevator. Moore was not in the house, and Bates, determined to learn something, went to Julie Baxter, who was at her switchboard. He took her, Gibbs following, to a small reception room, where they could be by themselves. “Now, Julie,” Bates said, “you’ve got to come across with the true story of your doings the night of the murder. You are not suspected, but you will be if you don’t ’fess up. It’s a fool thing to do, to refuse to tell, when continued silence may get you in very bad. So, out with it.” “You did the same thing yourself, Mr Bates,” and Julie glared at him. “You refused to tell——” “But I’m not a woman; they can’t suspect me. Also, I’ll tell, if I have to. My story won’t incriminate me. Go ahead, now,—let’s hear.” “I’ll tell where I was, if you’ll promise not to tell anybody else.” Julie looked obstinate, though evidently a good deal frightened. “I’ll promise, if the secret can be kept without hindering our investigation. Agree to that, Gibbs?”