for its life if I tell you who killed Perry and Ned Callender-Graham, and prove to Miss Callender that there's no reason why she need be afraid to give her love to any man?" Odell stared as if he thought I had gone mad or he was dreaming. "Who killed Perry and Ned Graham?" he repeated. "No one killed them." "You are wrong," I said quietly. "That's your opinion!" he blurted out. "That's my opinion. And if I'm right, if those two were murdered, and if the murderer or murderers can be found, won't Miss Callender feel she may safely marry a man she loves without delivering him up to danger?" "Yes," Odell admitted. "Great Heaven, if you were right!" "Supposing I am, and can prove it?" "There's nothing on God's earth I wouldn't do for you." "Well," I said, "I believe there's something in that opinion of mine. Don't dream that now I am getting at this truth I would bury it even if you did worse than crush my play. I'll go on, anyhow, but——" "You say you are getting at the truth," he broke in. "What do you think—what do you know? But how can you, a stranger, know anything?" "A stranger to you and those connected with the case, but not to the case itself. You may thank that despised detective instinct of mine for my keen interest in its details." "If you thought you'd unearthed the clue to a mystery, why didn't you advertise yourself by pointing it out to the police a year and a half ago?" "I certainly should if I'd got hold of it then, though not for the motive you suggest, Mr. Odell. My publishers were giving me all the publicity I wanted. As it happens, I picked up the clue in question only—a short time ago." "Only a few hours ago" were the words which all but slipped out. I bit them back, however. My line with a keen business man like Roger Odell was not to give away something for nothing. It was to sell—for a price. He tried to keep his countenance, but his eyes lit. I saw that my hint, like a spark to gun-cotton, had set him aflame with curiosity. Already, in spite
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