“We don’t! Well, I should say we know most of the suspects.” “Suspects don’t amount to much,” Pollard observed, “unless you can hang more evidence on them than has been attached to anybody so far.” “Evidence!” Monroe exclaimed; “what further evidence do you want than that letter of Phil Barry’s?” “Oho,” said Lane; “you’re out for Barry, are you? But, Pol, here threatened to kill Gleason. That’s far more incriminating evidence to my mind than Barry’s letter. For the letter may have been forged, but Pollard said his words himself.” “Oh, I know, but Manning was home in his rooms all the time, and nobody knows where Phil was. Why don’t they find out?” “Why don’t they find out anything?” Lane smiled. “Because they don’t go to work with any intelligence.” “You could solve the mystery, I suppose?” Monroe flung at him. “I’d be afraid to try,” and Lane looked serious. “Meaning?” Pollard asked. “That investigation of a determined sort might lead to awful conclusions.” “Don’t say it!” Pollard cried. “I can’t help knowing what you mean, but don’t breathe it, Lane. You know how a word—a hint—may start suspicion. And there’s not a word of truth in it!” “Who? Miss Lindsay?” Monroe asked, bluntly. “Hush up, Dean,” Pollard growled. “I won’t. And it’s silly to evade an issue. If there’s nothing in it, drag it out into the light and prove there isn’t.” “No,” Lane said, thoughtfully, “it isn’t wise to drag out anything concerning the Lindsays—any of them. Not even Mrs Lindsay. They’re an emotional lot, and if they get excited, they say all sorts of things. If they must be questioned, it would better be by somebody with their interests at heart, and the thing should be done quietly and with few listeners.” “Well, you go and do it, Lane,” Monroe suggested. “I feel sure unless you do, the police will get ahead of you, and they’ll put Miss Lindsay through the third degree——” “Oh, nonsense. The police are hot on Barry’s trail. That chap’ll be arrested very soon, I believe. Why, that letter is damning. How do you explain it, except at its face value?” “But what is its face value?” asked Pollard. “The letter doesn’t threaten violent measures at all——” “It implies something of the sort. And Barry has no alibi.” “Of course not,” Pollard said; “an innocent man doesn’t have. I mean, an innocent man is very likely not to know where he was at any given time. It’s your criminal who has his alibi at his tongue’s end.” “I’m going over to the Lindsay house now,” Lane said, rising. “Want to go along, Pol?” “No, not this time. If you’re going to quiz Miss Lindsay I’d rather not be there. And you said yourself you’d rather be alone.” “Right. But I’m going to ask Mrs Lindsay a few questions, too. After all, she and Miss Phyllis are the only heirs.” “Meaning one of them is doubtless the criminal!” Dean Monroe spoke scornfully. “Oh, I don’t say that,” Lane returned, “but there’s lots to see about.”