“Only this,” said the Russian, “I was always under the impression that Mr. Rice was independently wealthy. Therefore, I could not understand his movements. Now I can.” He paused, while we all looked at Rice in bewilderment. He flushed uncomfortably. “I don’t see how my finances concern you,” he said with some asperity. “Enough!” cried the Russian suddenly. “I shall ask no more questions. Why should I? I do not seek information. I know. Mr. Rice, will you go to the radio and turn the dial until you reach the number sixty?” The Russian moved to the black and silver radio. He tapped it with his great knuckles. “A beautiful instrument. I desire, Mr. Rice, that you tune in on sixty.” “What for?” said Rice. “We are reconstructing the murder of Mrs. Breese,” replied the Russian. “This radio is in exactly the condition and position that it was on that night. I have seen to that. Will you turn the dial to sixty, Mr. Rice?” Rice made no move. “I am giving you your opportunity,” the Russian said softly. “I am being merciful. Turn that dial to sixty.” Rice, as if hypnotized, shuffled towards the radio. His entire demeanor had changed. His shoulders drooped, his face was ashen. Rarely have I seen such a picture of defeat. Now his hand was upon the dial. “Sixty,” repeated the Russian. The hand moved, slowly. Suddenly a flash of fire came from the radio. Rice fell to the floor. I could not but gasp in horror. Then, shuddering, I saw the Russian deliberately kick the prone body. The Russian was shaking with laughter. “Get up!” he thundered. “Do you think I’d give you up so easily? I put blanks in, Mr. Rice. _You did not!_” CHAPTER XXVI THE RUSSIAN EXPLAINS The Russian beamed upon the dazed and frightened circle about him. “I have given you,” he said with his characteristic pedantic air, “a concrete demonstration of the _modus operandi_ of as ingenious and carefully planned a crime as it has been my privilege to study. I realize that to some of you the subject has been extremely painful.” He looked at Mary Breese paternally. “But even you, Miss Breese, and your family should find consolation in the thought that the man responsible for the tragedy in your lives has finally been brought to punishment.” He turned abruptly to Rice. “Will you care to explain the reasons for your horrible crimes, or shall I do it?” Rice looked down at the floor. Outwardly he had recovered his composure. His face was a mask.