“And now to business,” Zizi went on, her manner changing subtly from the witch-like, fascinating child to the energetic young woman. “Tell me things.” “We’ve already told Mr Wise about the case——” Millicent began. “Not the kind of things you tell him—other things. About this Mr Barry, now. Has he a high temper?” Phyllis stared-What had Phil Barry’s temper to do with the murder of Robert Gleason? “You see,” Zizi explained, “if he had, the note might have meant he’d kill his rival—if not it might have meant a lesser threat.” “He has a high temper,” Phyllis admitted, reluctantly; “I may as well say so, for others would tell you that. He’s a mild, equable nature as long as things go his way. But if he’s thwarted or crossed, even in trifles, he flies in a rage at once. I oughtn’t to say this——” “Because it seems to incriminate him,” Zizi nodded her little head; “but I compel the truth—don’t I?” she smiled at Phyllis. “I’ll bet you wouldn’t have said that to any other detective. Well, now, with the knowledge that Mr Barry is quick tempered, that he was jealous of Mr Gleason and that he wrote the threatening letter, and that he has given no positive account of what he was doing at the critical moment—shall we suspect him? Answer, no.” “Why?” Phyllis spoke breathlessly, relieved but anxious to know more. “Well, principally for the reason that he has confessed.” “Don’t murderers ever confess?” Louis asked, his eyes on the beautiful young thing that was of a type hitherto unknown in his experience. Zizi was not really beautiful, but her magnetic charm was so great, her ways so winsome, and her mysterious eyes so full of changing expression and half-veiled witchery that she enthralled them all. Wise watched her. He was accustomed to have his clients surprised at his strange little assistant, but oftener they were critical than wholly admiring. Tonight, however, Zizi was at her best—she was more than usually attractive, and her manner was gentler than she often chose to make it. “Oh, yes,” she said, in reply to Louis’ query, “but you have to know why they confess. You see Mr Barry confessed to shield some one else.” “Who?” Louis asked, but he flushed and looked embarrassed. “You know who,” Zizi returned, “and maybe it wasn’t only yourself, but Phyllis, too. You see—you must see, all of you, that the situation is serious. Louis was there very shortly before the crime took place. Phyllis is said to have been there—whether she was or not—no one can be found who saw or spoke to Mr Gleason after that—so it would be just like the detectives to fasten the crime on one or both of the Lindsays. Anyway, that’s the way it looked to Mr Barry, and in his quick tempered—which means impulsive way—he gave himself up. Although he is as innocent of the crime as you two are.” “My goodness!” Millicent exclaimed, “you start out by clearing all those who have been suspected!”