“Only by circumstantial evidence. Let me question you a bit. Where did you get the revolver?” “From my father’s desk drawer, where he always keeps it.” “You are familiar with firearms?” “My father taught me to shoot years ago. I’m not a crack shot—but that was not necessary.” “You premeditated the deed?” “For some time I have felt that I wanted to kill that man.” “Your conscience?” “Is very active. I deliberately went against its dictates for my father’s sake.” “And you killed Mr. Appleby because he hounded your father in addition to the long deprivation he had imposed on him?” “No, not that alone. Oh, I don’t want to tell you—but, if you won’t believe me otherwise, Mr. Stone, I will admit that I had a new motive——” “A new one?” “Yes, a secret that I learned only a day or so before—before Mr. Appleby’s death.” “The secret was Appleby’s?” “Yes; that is, he knew it. He told it to me. If any one else should know it, it would mean the utter ruin and desolation of the lives of my parents, compared to which this present condition of living is Paradise itself!” “This is true, Miss Wheeler?” “Absolutely true. _Now_, do you understand why I killed him?” CHAPTER XIII SARA WHEELER Fleming Stone was deeply interested in the Appleby case. While his logical brain could see no possible way to look save toward one of the three Wheelers, yet his soul revolted at the thought that any one of them was the criminal. Stone was well aware of the fact that the least seemingly guilty often proved to be a deep-dyed villain, yet he hesitated to think that Dan Wheeler had killed his old enemy, and he could not believe it was a woman’s work. He was impressed by Maida’s story, especially by the fact that a recent development had made her more strongly desirous to be rid of old Appleby. He wondered if it did not have something to do with young Appleby’s desire to marry her, and determined to persuade her to confide further in him regarding the secret she mentioned. But first, he decided to interview Mrs. Wheeler. This could not be done offhand, so he waited a convenient season, and asked for a conference when he felt sure it would be granted. Sara Wheeler received the detective in her sitting-room, and her manner was calm and collected as she asked him to make the interview as brief as possible. “You are not well, Mrs. Wheeler?” Stone asked, courteously. “I am not ill, Mr. Stone, but naturally these dreadful days have upset me, and the horror and suspense are still hanging over me. Can you not bring matters to a crisis? Anything would be better than present conditions!” “If some member of your family would tell me the truth,” Stone said frankly, “it would help a great deal. You know, Mrs. Wheeler, when three people insist on being regarded as the criminal, it’s difficult to choose among them. Now, won’t you, at least, admit that you didn’t shoot Mr. Appleby?”