“No, of course not,” reddening angrily. “I am waiting here to question Thorne. He hasn’t been here since early this morning, according to that old idiot, Cato. And it was this morning that I found Thorne and Wyndham sitting together near the cannon.” Mitchell came to a full stop as a new idea dawned upon him. “By gracious! I wonder if Wyndham knew Thorne had secreted the razors in the cannon?” “Ask him,” suggested Anthony and rose impatiently. “I’ve got to be going. Don’t do too much guesswork, Mitchell; remember, you must find a motive for murder. What motive would Dr. Thorne have for killing Brace Brainard?” The detective flushed. “What motive would Vera Deane have for planting counterfeit money?” he growled. “Don’t go _too_ slow, Anthony, or your counterfeiter will escape.” “I’m not worrying.” Anthony smiled provokingly as he reached for his hat. “Chief Connor has sent a dozen men over here. He believes in following a hot trail, and I reckon we’ll get ‘Gentleman Charlie.’ See you shortly.” And he left Mitchell sitting by the fire. CHAPTER XIX THE FIRST SHOT MURRAY gave Mrs. Porter’s message to the chauffeur, and then took the vacant seat in the roadster. “Just drop me at the house,” he directed as the car left the garage. “And, remember, Jones, Mrs. Porter says you must bring out a new nurse from the hospital; that you are not to return without one. Here’s the letter to the Washington doctor.” “Whose place is the new nurse to take?” inquired the chauffeur, slipping the note in his pocket. “Miss Deane’s or Mrs. Hall’s?” “Mrs. Porter didn’t mention, but I hope it is Mrs. Hall who is to go, she’s always complaining about the help.” Jones nodded sympathetically. “Cook told me she was forever finding fault with the food; says cook discriminates between her and Miss Deane--now, there’s a lady for you, and a good-looker!” in a burst of enthusiasm. “Catch her poking her nose in the garage the way Mrs. Hall does. I came mighty near telling Mrs. Hall what I thought about her when I caught her fooling ’round yesterday; said she wanted to see Mr. Brainard’s car, and I told her the police had taken it away to return to the company from which Mr. Brainard rented it.” “Hey! you ain’t going in the right direction,” objected Murray, as the chauffeur turned the car into the highway instead of taking the drive which circled the house. “Sorry”--putting on the brake--“I clean forgot.” Murray swung himself to the ground as the chauffeur added: “Who’s that waving to us?” catching sight of a man running toward them. “I don’t know,” replied Murray, and delayed his return to the house as the man came nearer. “Why, it’s the caller who waited to see Mr. Hugh this afternoon, name of Anthony.” “What’s he so excited about?” asked Jones, but before Murray could hazard a guess the Secret Service agent had reached the car. “Which one of you can show me the way to Elm Ridge?” he demanded, displaying a roll of money.