"I want Haskins, and you want Haskins. Circumstances puts us in the same boat, and we ought to work together on this business." He suppressed a wise grin, as he saw the look of displeasure on Griggs' face. "Aw, don't worry, constable, I'm not going to butt in on your territory. I'm not tryin' to steal your thunder." Sergeant Tish paused for a reply. "Humph!" grunted Ham Griggs, not finding any valid excuse for refusing this offer of coöperation. "About all I know to date," pursued Sergeant Tish, "is that a woman was bumped off with my gun, the one that Haskins lifted from me, when he handed me a knock-out at Eighth Avenue Annie's, that the pistol was left beside the body to make it look like suicide, and that you've gathered in a guy named Sarbella. If I'm goin' to help you any, I've got to have the low-down. See?" "Yes, constable, we'd better tell him," said Wiggly Price, as Griggs remained silent. "If you've no objection, I'll give him a brief outline of the facts." "All right," agreed Griggs, and Price related to Tish the facts in the case. Sergeant Tish listened thoughtfully to Wiggly Price's digest of the tragedy, and, puffing out his plump cheeks to a balloonlike roundness, nodded his head. "It's sure a queer jumble, ain't it?" he grunted. "I don't blame you, Griggs, for thinkin' this Sarbella fellow pulled the job, but how would Sarbella have got hold of the gun? No, it still looks like Don Haskins to me. Nobody else to be suspected, I suppose?" Wiggly thought of the black hairpin and that germ of suspicion which Etta Griggs had planted in his mind by telling him of the suspected one-sided romance between Joan Sheridan and her stepbrother. He hesitated a moment and decided to keep this to himself, at least for the present. Let Sarbella and Don Haskins, walking so unexpectedly into the mystery, be eliminated before other complications were added. He sidestepped this question by ignoring it entirely. "Surely," he said, "if Bates had let Haskins into the house, he would have mentioned it." "Why don't we ask him whether he did or not?" grunted Constable Griggs, for at this moment the butler had stepped out of the house into the warming sunlight of the wide porch. CHAPTER XXI A CRY OF TERROR The three men left the little police car where it stood and walked the remaining few yards to the house. Bates saw their coming; as a matter of fact, he had from within noticed their approach, and he had come out to meet them. Despite his evident weariness, he was patently eager for any news. Constable Griggs, quickly forestalling any move that might tend to crowd himself out of the major role, planted himself directly in front of the butler, frowning sternly. "When was the last time you saw the dead woman alive?" he demanded. "Immediately after dinner," answered Bates; "she went directly upstairs, and I did not see her again until--until she was dead."