"Yes, unconditionally," he answered. "We find that we have done you an injustice, although you must admit that we were within our rights, everything considered. The murderer of the Gilmore woman----Oh, curse this lock!" Sarbella pressed his body closer to the bars. "Yes?" he demanded with an eager impatience. "The murderer--go on, man!" The lock finally yielded, enabling the physician to turn the handle that slid the bolts, and the door opened. Victor Sarbella was a free man. "Tell me," he commanded again. "Who----" The newspaper reporter sensed his grave concern, his anxiety--and wondered. "Luckily for you," answered Doctor Bushnell, "the slayer was still in the house--a criminal who, it developed, was the woman's undivorced husband." "Thank Heaven!" breathed Sarbella, and it was apparent that this news was a great relief to him. Briefly the doctor related the facts. "What a blessedly fortunate ending!" murmured the artist. "I was afraid of other things--something more terrible." "I'm driving back to Greenacres after I get together a jury for the inquest," went on the physician. "I'm anxious to get it over with as quickly as possible, for my private practice has to wait until this official business is disposed of, and my patients are liable to lose their patience." He chuckled a little at his own pun. "You may ride back to Greenacres with me, if you choose." "Thanks," nodded Sarbella, "I will." The three men made their way out of the basement cell room and to the street, where the doctor said that they could wait in his car, if they liked. A moment later he was hurrying along the village thoroughfare in quest of his jurors, picking up practically the first citizens that he encountered. Sarbella got into the rear of the touring car, and Wiggly Price sat beside him. "You seem to be well out of a bad situation," said the newspaper man. The released suspect nodded soberly. "Yes," he agreed, "a bad situation--an overwhelming situation. Circumstantial evidence can be a damning thing. Perhaps I owe something to you; your attitude, when you came to the cell about the cigarette----" "You do not owe your release to me, Sarbella; it was the appearance of Sergeant Tish, his identification of the gun and the presence of Haskins in the house." Wiggly paused for a moment with his eyes on the other's face. "You were greatly relieved when you heard the doctor's explanation of the tragedy?" Victor Sarbella inclined his head. "I was!" he exclaimed fervently. "Knowing my own innocence, I am afraid that I was as much inclined to suspect other people as other people to suspect me. I am afraid that I even suspected my friend Gilmore." "Why Gilmore?" asked Wiggly. "He had a perfect alibi--downstairs when the shot was fired." "Yes, I know," murmured Sarbella, "but the poor chap was so overwrought, so beside himself, so obsessed with the suspicion that there had been an--ah--affair between me and--and his wife--but let us not talk of that."