“Oh, no! we all know you don’t want to get her in bad--unless it can be done with abserlute safety to your own precious self. Well--it can’t, ma’am. You keep on like you’ve begun--and your middle name’ll soon be trouble! Good morning, ma’am.” Fibsy rose, bowed and left the room so suddenly that Fifi hadn’t time to stop him if she had wanted to. And he left behind him a decidedly scared little woman. Fibsy then went straight to the offices of Mason Elliott. He was admitted and given an audience at once. “What is it, McGuire?” asked the broker. “A lot of things, Mr. Elliott. First of all--I suppose the police are quite satisfied with the alibis of you and Mr. Hendricks?” “Yes,” and Elliott looked curiously into the grave, earnest little face. He had resented, at first, the work of this boy, but after Fleming Stone had explained his worth, Elliott soon began to see it for himself. “They are unimpeachable,” he went on; “I was at home, and Mr. Hendricks was in Boston. This has been proved over and over by many witnesses, both authentic and credible.” “Yes,” Fibsy nodded. “I’m sure of it, too. And, of course, that lets you two out. Now, Mr. Elliott, the butler didn’t do it F. Stone says that’s a self-evident fact. Bringin’ us back--as per usual to the two ladies. But, Mr. Elliott, neither of those ladies did it.” “Bless you, my boy, that’s my own opinion, of course, but how can we prove it?” Fibsy deeply appreciated the “we” and gave the speaker a grateful smile. “There you are, Mr. Elliott, how can we? Mr. Stone, as you know, is the cleverest detective in the world, but he’s no magician. He can’t find the truth, if the truth is hidden in a place he can’t get at.” “Have you any idea, McGuire, who the murderer was?” “No, sir, I haven’t. But I’ve an idea where to get an idea. And I want you to help me.” “Surely--that goes without saying.” “You’d do anything for Mrs. Embury, wouldn’t you?” “Anything.” The simple assertion told the whole story, and Fibsy nodded with satisfaction. “Then tell me truly, sir, please, wasn’t Mr. Embury a--a--a--” “Careful there--he’s dead, you know.” “Yes, I know--but it’s necessary, sir. Wasn’t he a--I don’t know the right term, but wasn’t he a money-grabber?” “In what way?” Elliott spoke very gravely. “You know best, sir. He was your partner--had been for some years. But--on the side, now--didn’t he do this? Lend money-sorta personally, you know--on security.” “And if he did?” “Didn’t he demand big security--didn’t he get men--his friends even--in his power--and then come down on ‘em--oh, wasn’t he a sort of a loan shark?” “Where did you get all this?” “I put together odds and ends of talk I’ve heard--and it must be so. That Mr. Patterson, now--” “Patterson! What do you know of him?” “Nothing, but that he owed Mr. Embury a lot, and his household stuff was the collateral--and--” “Were did you learn that? I insist on knowing!”