“No.” Beverly Thorne, who had been scrutinizing each person in the room, his gaze resting longest on Vera, who avoided looking at him, could not repress a smile as he saw Anthony’s chagrin. “No one was in the cabin but myself,” continued Noyes. “The stillness of the place got on my nerves, and I drew out my revolver--” He stopped and tried to withdraw his hand from Millicent’s detaining clasp. “I heard someone approaching the cabin and darted behind the screen, not caring to meet anyone--then a shot startled me, and my revolver went off almost simultaneously, and my aim was poor--” His attempt at a smile was ghastly. His companions were drinking in his words as they stood in a semicircle about the lounge on which Millicent had sunk beside Noyes. Mitchell, who was across from Thorne, saw him watching Vera, and turned his attention to her, but Anthony’s next words riveted his thoughts again on Noyes. “You say you heard a shot, Dr. Noyes?” questioned Anthony. “From which direction did the shot come?” “From outside the cabin,” promptly. “It was somewhat muffled.” “You are sure it was not fired in the cabin?” “I am.” Anthony turned bluntly to Thorne. “I guess that lets you out of _one_ charge--you didn’t shoot Dr. Noyes, but--we still have to establish the identity of ‘Gentleman Charlie,’ the counterfeiter.” Thorne eyed the Secret Service agent in surprise mixed with amusement, but before he could reply Mitchell addressed him briskly. “Suppose you tell me, Dr. Thorne, why Bruce Brainard stopped to see you on Monday evening before coming here, and why you never spoke of his visit.” “Brainard had an attack of vertigo on the way here, and, meeting Cato, asked to be directed to the nearest physician,” replied Thorne. “So Cato brought him to me.” Millicent, who had listened to Noyes’ statements in dumb agony, looked up at Thorne. “Bruce told me that he had stopped to see you, and Tuesday morning when I discovered Bruce lying in bed with his throat cut and recognized the razor, I--I--rushed to the telephone to ask you to come over, but Vera came and frightened me away before I got you.” Noyes struggled to sit up. Millicent’s statement had caught him off guard. “You discovered Brainard’s murder on Tuesday morning?” he asked incredulously. “You went back to his bedroom again?” Mitchell was the first to grasp the significance of Noyes’ remark. “What’s this?” he demanded. “What do you mean to insinuate--that Miss Porter was in Bruce Brainard’s bedroom on Monday night?” “She was,” responded a voice from the doorway, and Wyndham, spinning around, saw Dorothy Deane advancing into the room. She looked desperately ill and staggered rather than walked. “Millicent was seen in Bruce’s bedroom by her brother Craig,” Dorothy added. Her listeners eyed her in astonishment too deep for expression. Wyndham was the first to recover himself. “Come with me, dear,” he said soothingly. “You are ill, delirious.”