“I will not pretend to misunderstand your meaning,” he said, slowly and with hauteur. “Nor shall I say a word, at present, in self defence. Your implication is so absurd, so really ridiculous, there is nothing to be said.” “That’s right,” and Morton nodded. “Don’t say anything until you get counsel. Now, Mrs. Bates—I’m mighty sorry to bother you—but I must ask you a few questions. And if I size you up right, you’ll be glad to tell anything you can to help discover the truth. That so?” “Yes,” she returned, “yes—of course, Mr. Morton. But I can’t let you seem to suspect Mr. Lockwood of wrong-doing without a protest! Doctor Waring’s secretary is most loyal and devoted—of that I am sure.” “Never mind that side of it just now. Tell me this, Mrs. Bates. Who will benefit financially by Doctor Waring’s death? To whom is his fortune willed? I take it you must know, as you expected soon to marry him.” “But I don’t know,” Emily Bates said, a little indignantly. “Nor do I see how it can help you to solve the mystery to get such information as that. You don’t suppose anybody killed him for his money, do you?” “What other motive could there be, Mrs. Bates? Had he enemies?” “No; well, that is, I suppose he had some acquaintances who were disappointed at his election to the College Presidency. But I’d hardly call them enemies.” “Why not? Why wouldn’t they be enemies? It’s my impression that election was hotly contested.” “It was,” Mrs. Peyton broke in. “It was, Mr. Morton, and if Doctor Waring was murdered—which I can’t see how he was—some of that other faction did it.” “But that’s absurd,” Gordon Lockwood protested; “there was disappointment among the other faction at the result of the election, but it’s incredible that they should kill Doctor Waring for that reason!” “The whole case is incredible,” Morton returned. “What is it, Higby, what have you found?” “The doctor,” Higby said, coming into the living room, “they have just noticed that although there is a pinhole in Doctor Waring’s tie, there is no stickpin there. Did he wear one?” “Of course he did,” Mrs. Bates cried. “He had on his ruby pin yesterday.” “He did so,” echoed Mrs. Peyton. “That ruby pin was worth an immense sum of money! That’s why he was killed, then, robbery!” “He certainly wore that pin last night,” said Lockwood. “Are you sure it’s missing? Hasn’t it dropped to the floor?” “Can’t find it,” returned Higby, and then all the men went back to the study. “Anything else missing?” asked Morton, who was deeply chagrined that he hadn’t noticed the pin was gone himself. “How about money, Mr. Lockwood?” said Doctor Marsh. “Any gone, that you can notice?” With an uncertain motion, Gordon Lockwood pulled open a small drawer of the desk. “Yes,” he said, “there was five hundred dollars in cash here last night—and now it is not here.” “Better dismiss the suicide theory,” said Detective Morton, with a quick look at the secretary.