"Serious in one way, not in another. Still, I am glad to see you. If you had not come to me I should have paid you a visit in the course of the day. You have a right to know." "Know what?" demanded Gebb, beginning to feel uncomfortable; he knew not why. "That Alder is dead." "Dead!" Gebb, with a burst of anger unusual in one of his self-control, dashed his hat on the floor. "By----!" he used a strong word, "so he has escaped me after all!" "What!" cried Basson, leaning forward in the chair he had flung himself into. "You know?" "I know that Alder killed Miss Gilmar; I heard it this morning. I have the evidence of his own handwriting to prove his guilt. When did you hear of it? How did you hear of it?" "I heard all about it at eight o'clock this morning, shortly before Alder died." "Then he confessed his crime?" "He did. I was sent for at seven o'clock at his particular request, and he told me the whole story. In order to clear any innocent person who might be suspected, I wrote down what he said, and got him to sign it. The doctor and myself were the witnesses, and the confession is locked in my desk yonder. I was coming round to your office later on in order to place it in your hands. How did you find out the truth?" "It's a long story, Mr. Basson. I'll tell it to you some other time. But I learned that he killed his cousin, and I came here to get you to go with me, and force him to confess." "He did so voluntarily," said Basson, sadly, "and made what reparation he could for his wickedness. Do you wonder that I received a shock, Mr. Gebb? It was terrible to hear a man I had known so long, whom I had liked so much, confess himself a murderer." "It is terrible, I grant you," replied Gebb, somewhat moved by the grief of the old Bohemian. "I should never have thought it of him myself, as is proved by the fact that I never suspected him. He seemed a kindly, honest, pleasant gentleman. Perhaps, however, there is the excuse that he did the deed in a fit of rage. From what I have heard of Miss Gilmar she was a woman to irritate an archangel." Basson shook his head. "There is not even that excuse," he said. "The crime was committed in cold blood. He planned and carried it out in the most ruthless manner." "But why in Heaven's name did he desire the death of his wretched cousin?" "Money, Mr. Gebb--money. Alder was desperately hard up--on the verge of bankruptcy; and as his cousin refused to help him, he killed her. To gain her wealth was the motive of the act. Well," added Basson, with a sigh, "he did not enjoy his ill-gotten gains long, for in the midst of his prosperity the hand of God struck him down." "You have the confession, you say?" "Here it is!" Basson unlocked the drawer of his desk, and took out a sheet, or, to be precise, several sheets of paper, and handed them to Gebb. The detective turned to the end, saw the three signatures, then slipped the papers into his pocket.