“Well spoken, young man. And your promises are right. I am out of touch with the world, and I should be glad indeed of the advice of an experienced man of business. But, first of all, will you tell me who _you_ think killed Appleby?” “I will, sir. I’ve no idea it was any of you three people, who have all confessed to the deed, in order to shield one another.” “Whom then do you suspect?” “An outside intruder. I have held to this theory from the start, and I am sure it is the true one. Moreover, I think the murderer is the man who blew the bugle——” “The phantom bugler!” “No phantom, but a live man. Phantoms do not blow on bugles except in old English legends. A bugle sounded in New England and heard by several people, was blown by human lungs. Find your bugler and you’ve found your murderer.” “I wonder if you can be right!” Wheeler fell into a brown study and Keefe watched him closely. His bugler theory was offered in an effort to find out what Wheeler thought of it, and Wheeler’s response ought to show whether his own knowledge of the murder precluded the bugler or not. Apparently it did, for he sighed and said: “Of course the person who sounded that bugle was a live person, but I cannot think it had any connection with Mr. Appleby’s death. Even granting somebody might have been wicked enough to try to frighten my wife, yet there is no reason to think any one wishing to kill Samuel Appleby would know of the old legend in Mrs. Wheeler’s family.” “True enough. But it is possible, and, in my opinion, that is the only direction to look.” “But what direction? How can you find out who blew that bugle?” “I don’t know yet, but I shall try to find out. As a matter of fact very little inquiry has been made. Those two detectives, while intelligent enough, don’t have a very wide horizon. They’ve concluded that the assassin was—well, was named Wheeler—and they’re only concerned to discover the first name. Forgive my plain speaking, but to save yourself and the other two, we must be outspoken.” “Yes, yes—pray don’t hesitate to say anything you think. I am in a terrible position, Mr. Keefe—more terrible than you can know, and while I am willing to make any sacrifice for my dear ones—it may be in vain——” The two men had been alone in the den, but now were joined by Burdon and young Allen. “Glad to see you back, Mr. Keefe,” Burdon said; “usually we detectives don’t hanker after outside help, but you’ve a good, keen mind, and I notice you generally put your finger on the right spot.” “All right, Burdon, we’ll work together. Now, Mr. Wheeler, I’m going to ask you to leave us—for there are some details to discuss——” Dan Wheeler was only too glad to be excused, and with a sigh of relief he went away to his upstairs quarters. “Now, it’s this way,” Keefe began; “I’ve been sounding Mr. Wheeler, but I didn’t get any real satisfaction. But here’s a point. Either he did or didn’t kill Mr. Appleby, but in either case, he’s in bad.”