“Out of clear sky comes a telephone call from Spence, and instantly Rice realizes that Trenholm has been talking. His work is not yet over. Rice is in a frenzy. Spence wants enormous sums of money. Rice is adventurer enough to know you cannot ever pay a blackmailer. The process is continuous. “I do not think Mr. Rice enjoyed his crimes. I do not think he is possessed with any insane relish of homicide. Mr. Rice may be brutal, but he is not a killer by instinct. I am willing to say that the prospect of a third murder made Mr. Rice feel very unpleasant. “He tried to bluff Spence out, but the young man was too shrewd. He sent a letter to you, Mr. Breese, so that he could telephone Rice that unless he got his money he would expose to you what had happened. Rice, upon receiving this intelligence, instructed him to get into a cab and come to this house. He told him to dismiss his driver, and that he would then receive the money. “Of course, Rice went to a window with the revolver he had taken from the radio. He used a silencer, so no one could hear. He fired one bullet. It struck Mr. Spence and silenced him forever. Then Mr. Rice was done.” He looked at the promoter reflectively. “You had only intended one perfect crime. But it resolved itself into three. The second, of Trenholm, was not half bad. The third was atrocious. You should have realized that suspicion would point to someone in this house. You should have realized that I was at work. However, it is always the way with criminals. They are brilliant only in flashes. Eventually they must lower the quality of their work, and they are caught.” “I don’t suppose,” said Rice grimly, “there’s any need of my saying anything.” “Quite the contrary,” replied the Russian. “You may contribute something vitally interesting. My recital was necessarily bald, and in spots guesswork. Only the essentials are indisputable. Your confession would be extremely interesting to Mr. Smith and myself.” “Sure,” agreed Smith. “Only there’s no need of making it here. We’ll take you down to Headquarters if you don’t mind, Mr. Rice.” “Very well,” said Rice, extending his hands. Smith produced a pair of shining handcuffs. Then I saw Rice jump suddenly, and with both hands push Smith violently to the floor. The next moment the promoter had leaped through the closed window, with a wild smash of glass. The Russian jumped after him. Smith picked himself up from the floor. In one hand he held a revolver. He followed the Russian out of the window. Then we heard two shots in rapid succession. Then two more. I ran out into the garden. The street was buzzing with people. I turned to find the Russian beside me. “It does not matter,” he said. “I leave to Mr. Smith the punishment. I am interested only in the solution. Do I not deserve to be congratulated? Have I not done an extraordinary piece of detective work? Am I not the greatest detective in the world?” He looked down into the street.