"Well, Chief, they're keeping you busy. They tell me you don't like it because I exposed that fellow who palmed himself off as Mr. Quintus Oakes--that man Rogers, you know." "No, I did not like it particularly--it interfered with my plans; I am trying to catch the murderer of Mr. Mark, you know." "Suppose you are! you haven't got him yet. You can search me, Chief. I think Mr. Quintus Oakes here is entitled to all the credit so far--eh--don't you?" The old fellow turned to Oakes as he spoke the words that showed he was not to be fooled into believing Oakes was Clark. We moved nearer. Skinner knew all, apparently. Then Oakes arose to meet the occasion, and stood before the old man: "Mr. Skinner, I thank you for warning me not to come to Mona--it was your letter I received. But why did you warn me? Was it to protect your secret?" Oakes had acted all along as though he had learned some things he had not spoken of to us--he and Hallen had seemed to comprehend more than we others knew; but I was scarce prepared for such a sudden revelation. "Stop!" cried the old man, "stop! you have no right--I did warn you to keep away from Mona--I knew of the Mansion mysteries--I knew you by sight in New York--I recognized you here on your first visit--I did not want to see a good man get in trouble." "Thank you," said Oakes, "thank you. Your kindness was appreciated, but you have another motive--you are shielding someone." "None--no one," came the answer. "Nonsense!" and Oakes's eyes blazed as he spoke; "you tried to send him away this morning. You gave him money at the hut. You were nearly killed by the man you are protecting. Can you explain it?" The old man was shaking violently. He arose, tottered and sat down. Then burying his head in his hands, he remained silent for a space of seconds. Then shaking his head, he moaned: "No, I can't explain. I had given him all. Mr. Oakes, he was not robbing me--he seemed angry--he--I could not understand." "I can," said Oakes. "The man you have befriended these many years, the man Maloney who used to work with you in your shop, to whom you gave, among many other things, a red bandana handkerchief with your initial 'S' upon it--one of those handkerchiefs you use about the printing office--that man, we think, is a maniac. We surmise that he has the killing mania. Did you not suspect it?" The old man's manner changed to one of terrified inquiry. "Why, I never suspected--I--I thought he was peculiar--I mistrusted he was at the bottom of the Mansion mysteries--I wanted to send him away to give him a show." Oakes hesitated, then answered evasively, but forcefully: "Maloney is probably irresponsible. He is the man of the Mansion--the woman, so called, of the Smith murder--the murderer of Mr. Mark--we believe, but we are without _proof_ as yet."