He said, too, that he saw no harm in doing a few little tricks to mystify and interest the investigators, but he swore that he had no hand in the spectral appearances nor in the awful tragedy of the four o'clock tea. What he did confess to was the placing of the old, battered candlestick in Miss Reid's room the first night the party arrived. "I done it, sort of on impulse," he said; "I heard 'em talking about ghosts, and just to amaze them, I sneaked in in the night and took that candlestick offen Mr. Bruce's dresser and set it on the young lady's. I didn't mean any harm, only to stir things up." "Which you did," remarked Peterson drily. "Go on." The confession was being recorded in the presence of police officials, and Stebbins was practically under arrest, or would be very shortly after his tale was told. "Well, then, the first night Mr. Bruce slept in that room, that ha'nted room, I thought I'd wrap a sheet round me and give him a little scare,--he was so scornful o' ghosts, you know. An' I did, but nobody would believe his yarn. So that's all I did. If any more of them ghost performances was cut up by live people, they wasn't me. Somebody else did it." And no amount of further coercion could budge Stebbins from these statements. He stuck to it, that though he had tricked his tenants, he had done nothing to harm them, and his intentions were of the best, as he merely wanted to give them what they had taken his house for. "You intended to keep it up?" asked Peterson. "Yes, I did, but after they took things into their own hands, and played spooks themselves, what was the use?" "How did you get into the house at night, when it was so securely locked?" asked Peterson. "I managed it, but I won't tell you how," said Stebbins, doggedly. "With Thorpe's help," suggested Peterson, "or--oh, by Jinks!" he whistled; "I think I begin to see a glimmer of a gleam of light on this mystery! Yes, I sure do! Excuse me, and I'll fly over to the house and do a little questioning. Officer, keep friend Stebbins safe against my return." Arrived at Black Aspens, Peterson asked for Rudolph Braye, and was closeted with him for a secret session, from which Braye came forth looking greatly worried and perturbed. Peterson went away, and Braye sought the others. He found them listening to a letter which Professor Hardwick had just received and which the old man was reading aloud. "It's from Mr. Wise," he said to Braye, as the latter came in hearing. "He's a detective, and he writes to me, asking permission to take up this case." "What a strange thing to do!" exclaimed Braye.