"That cawn't be right, sir," said the butler, after thought and a wild glance about. "'Ow can that be right? I tried the door when the telephone loidy called me hup! I tried hit twice. James tried hit! 'E fixes hall the locks in the 'ouse, sir. 'E says it was most excellently secured, sir." "How about that?" asked Drew, turning to the second-man. "What of that, James?" "'E's right. I'm a little of everythin' about the 'ouse. I tends the door and I watches the lights and locks, sir. I was born in Brixton, sir, where the old man kept a lock-shop, sir. That's twenty years, and more ago, sir. Beggin' your pardon, sir." Drew swung upon the butler. The second-man was the living picture of truth. His dereliction, if any, might consist in sly tapping of the wine-cellar. His nose attested to this habit, in a brilliant rosette. "You're partly to blame!" Drew told the butler. "There's nobody in this room who could have committed the murder. There was nobody here when we left Mr. Stockbridge. There is no way for anybody to get in, save through this door. The same applies in getting out--escaping. If you were awake and always here, and if you were honest," he added, "I could presume that the master was slain by--well, let us say, unnatural causes. Such things do not exist. This is a material age. Nothing as much as a pin-head or point was ever moved save through a natural cause. No bullet could be fired into a man's brain without a hand which planned or pulled the trigger." The butler stared at Drew with blank expression. He gulped. His eyes dropped. "I'm thinking," he said, "that the whole blym occurrence his unnatural. I never left that door until they told me the telephone company's loidy wanted me on the wire. It was then I left it." "Ah!" said Drew. "We're getting there. Then, if you are speaking truth, and I won't help you if you are not, we have reached a point in the case which will bear considerable thought. It is evident that Stockbridge was murdered by a pistol shot, at or about the time the table and contents were spilled over. In other words, the shot which bowled him over brought down with it the telephone transmitter and receiver. That is the thing which fixes, within minutes--perhaps seconds--the time of the murder. The telephone girl will have a record which will help us considerable. Many criminals have been caught--and convicted by the time element. There is no alibi against truth! A man can't be in two places at the same time!" Drew turned toward the door. He hesitated and wheeled. "You heard nothing fall in this room?" he asked sharply. "I did not, sir." "No shot?" "I cawn't say that I did, sir." "No telephone bell ringing? Ringing at any time after I left the house?" "Not downstairs, sir." "You did!" "'Ow, sir?" "Didn't you tell me the telephone company rang up and wanted you to put the receiver on the hook in the library?" "I didn't 'ear it ring. James brought the word, sir." "Then, what happened upstairs?"