“First of all, who do you think killed Samuel Appleby?” This question was shot at him by Burdon, and all waited in silence for the answer. “I killed him myself,” was the straightforward reply. “That settles it,” said Hallen, “it was one of the women.” “What do you mean by that?” cried Wheeler, turning quickly toward the speaker. “I mean, that either your wife or daughter did the deed, and you are taking the crime on yourself to save her.” “No;” reasserted Dan Wheeler, “you’re wrong. I killed Appleby for good and sufficient reason. I’m not sorry, and I accept my fate.” “Wait a minute,” said Hallen, as Keefe was about to protest; “where was your daughter, Miss Maida, when you killed your man?” “I—I don’t know. I think she had gone to the fire—which had just broken out.” “You’re not sure——” “I am not.” “She had been with you, in the den?” “I don’t know.” “Well, I know. She had. She had been sitting in her favorite window-seat, in the large bay, and was there while you and Mr. Appleby were talking together. Also, she did not leave the room to go to the fire, for no one saw her anywhere near the burning garage.” “As to that, I can’t say,” went on Wheeler, slowly, “but she was not in the den, to my knowledge, at the time of the shooting.” “Very well, let that pass. Now, then, Mr. Wheeler, if you shot Mr. Appleby, what did you afterward do with your revolver?” “I—I don’t know.” The man’s face was convincing. His frank eyes testified to the truth of his words. “I assure you, I don’t know. I was so—so bewildered—that I must have dropped it—somewhere. I never thought of it again.” “But if you had merely dropped it, it must have been found. And it hasn’t been.” “Somebody else found it and secreted it,” suggested Hallen. “Probably Mr. Wheeler’s wife or daughter.” “Perhaps so,” assented Wheeler, calmly. “They might have thought to help me by secreting it. Have you asked them?” “Yes, and they deny all knowledge of it.” “So do I. But surely it will be found.” “It must be found. And, therefore, it is imperative that the rooms of the ladies as well as your own rooms, sir, be thoroughly searched.” “All right—go ahead and search!” Wheeler spoke sharply. “I’ve confessed the crime, now waste no time in useless chattering. Get the evidence, get the proofs, and let the law take its course.” “You will not leave the premises,” put in Hallen, and his tone was that of command rather than inquiry. “I most certainly shall not,” declared Wheeler. “But I do ask you, gentlemen, to trouble and annoy my wife and daughter as little as possible. Their grief is sufficient reason for their being let alone.” “H’m,” grunted Burdon. “Well, sir, I can promise not to trouble the ladies more than is necessary—but I can’t help feeling necessity will demand a great deal.” Mrs. Wheeler was next interviewed, and the confab took place in her own sitting-room.