“That’s what I told you all along!” chimed in Clive Creede. “And I told you he couldn’t possibly have had any motive. He--” “Clive!” said Miss Gregg, her voice acid. “Did you ever hear a wise old maxim that runs: ‘Save me from my friends and I’ll save myself from my enemies’? Stop wringing your hands in that silly nervous way and clap both of them tight over your mouth and keep them there. A little more of your staunch friendship and Thax would be on his way to jail. Please--” “You did not lose sight of Mr. Vail,” summed up the chief with visible reluctance, “from about one o’clock until less than thirty seconds before the alarm was given? You could swear to that if necessary, Miss Gregg?” “Do you suppose I’ve been keeping my palms on this scratchy old muslin just for fun?” she snapped. “Oh, yes, I remember!” Quimby corrected himself in some confusion. “I forgot you have already sworn--that you made your statement with your hands resting on the Holy Bible. In that event, Mr. Vail, I can only apologize for my hint at arresting you. I see no evidence at present to hold you or any one else on. Miss Gregg’s word--to say nothing of her solemn oath-would convince any jury in this county and would clear you. Doctor, you will be ready to testify at the inquest that Mr. Chase had been dead less than one hour when you examined him?” “I shall,” replied Lawton, unhesitatingly. “One question more, Mr. Vail, if you will permit,” said the chief, with marked increase of deference, as he turned again to Thaxton. “Or, rather, two questions. In the first place, what was the cause and the nature of your quarrel with Mr. Chase--the quarrel which Mr. Creede says he interrupted this morning?” “Mr. Creede has told you all there is to tell about that,” answered Thaxton, with some coldness of tone and manner. “Mr. Chase had read in the paper that I was obliged to maintain Vailholme as a hotel. He insisted on coming here. Not as a guest but to board. He thought it was a great joke. I did not. That is where we differed. There was no quarrel as he and I understood it. Nothing but an exchange of friendly abuse. It remained for Mr. Creede to construe it into a quarrel.” “I see,” said the chief, doubtfully. “The second and last question is: Why did you, late in the evening, insist on transferring Mr. Chase from the room assigned to him to your own room?” “Because the night was hot, and his room was uncomfortable and mine was cool and comfortable, and I was not going to occupy my own room all night.” “H’m!” murmured Quimby. The tramp of feet in the front hall put an end to any further queries he might have been framing. Whitcomb and two other constables stood in the living room doorway, arriving in answer to the telephone summons. At once the chief ranged from inquisitor to policeman.