He put his hand to his head as if it hurt him, and she noticed that his eyes looked queer. For a moment the agony of a terrible suspicion crossed her mind. Was it possible that in a moment of drunken recklessness he had shot Underwood? Quickly, almost breathlessly, she whispered to him: "Tell me quickly, 'tis not true, is it? You did not kill Robert Underwood." He shook his head. "No," he said. "Thank God for that!" she exclaimed. "But your confession--what does that mean?" "I do not know. They told me I did it. They insisted I did it. He was sure I did it. He told me he knew I did it. He showed me the pistol. He was so insistent that I thought he was right--that I had done it." In a deep whisper he added earnestly, "But you know I didn't, don't you?" "Who is _he_?" demanded Annie. "The police captain." "Oh, Captain Clinton told you you did it?" Howard nodded. "Yes, he told me he _knew_ I did it. He kept me standing there six hours, questioning and questioning until I was ready to drop. I tried to sit down; he made me stand up. I did not know what I was saying or doing. He told me I killed Robert Underwood. He showed me the pistol under the strong light. The reflection from the polished nickel flashed into my eyes, everything suddenly became a blank. A few moments later the coroner came in and Captain Clinton told him I confessed. But it isn't true, Annie. You know I am as innocent of that murder as you are." "Thank God, thank God!" exclaimed Annie. "I see it all now." Her tears were dried. Her brain was beginning to work rapidly. She already saw a possible line of defense. "I don't know how it all happened," went on Howard. "I don't know any more about it than you do. I left you to go to Underwood's apartment. On the way I foolishly took a drink. When I got there I took more whiskey. Before I knew it I was drunk. While talking I fell asleep. Suddenly I heard a woman's voice." "Ah!" interrupted Annie. "You, too, heard a woman's voice. Captain Clinton said there was a woman in it." Thoughtfully, as if to herself, she added: "We must find that woman." "When I woke up," continued Howard, "it was dark. Groping around for the electric light, I stumbled over something. It was Underwood's dead body. How he came by his death I have not the slightest idea. I at once realized the dangerous position I was in and I tried to leave the apartment unobserved. Just as I was going, Underwood's man-servant arrived and he handed me over to the police. That's the whole story. I've been here since yesterday and I'll be devilish glad to get out." "You will get out," she cried. "I'm doing everything possible to get you free. I've been trying to get the best lawyer in the country--Richard Brewster." "Richard Brewster!" exclaimed Howard. "He's my father's lawyer." "I saw your father yesterday afternoon," she said quietly. "You did!" he exclaimed, surprised. "Was he willing to receive you?" "He had to," she replied. "I gave him a piece of my mind."