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He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the Inspector drew him back. "Anything more?" he asked. The Inspector smiled. "You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died." "Is that a question, Inspector?" "You may take it as such."
Do not repeat that delirious cry you have heard or betray in any way our intense and fearful interest in this young lady's strange death. You have shown me a letter. Do not speak of that letter, I entreat you. Help us to retain our secret a little longer. Only the doctor and myself know what awaits Mr. Brotherson if he lives. I had to tell the doctor, but a doctor reveals nothing.
He had a theory in regard to this lamentable suicide which he hoped to establish by this man's testimony, and, in pursuit of this plan, he not only motioned to Mr. Brotherson to reseat himself, but began at once to open a fresh line of examination by saying: "You will pardon me, if I press this matter.
A quick affirmative was on Sweetwater's lips but the glimpse which he got of the speaker's face glowering upon him from the shadows into which Brotherson had withdrawn, stopped its utterance, and the silence grew heavy.
I do not quarrel with the suspicion; it was justified, Mr. Challoner. I did kill your daughter, and with this hand! I can no longer deny it." The wretched father swayed, following the gesture of the hand thus held out; but he did not fall, nor did a sound leave his lips. Brotherson went coldly on: "I did it because I regarded her treatment of my suit as insolent.
And the man characterised at that time by the janitor as the best, the quietest and most respectable tenant in the whole building, and the one you remember whose window opened directly opposite the spot where this woman lay dead, was Mr. Dunn himself, or, in other words, our late redoubtable witness, Mr. Orlando Brotherson." XII. Mr. "I thought I should make you sit up.
"Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the burden of another unprovoked crime." Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man who dared to face him with such an accusation. "God! why didn't I shoot you on entrance!" he cried. "Your courage is certainly colossal." A fine smile, without even the hint of humour now, touched the daring detective's lip.
Challoner be made to accept it. Indeed, he is so convinced of its falsehood, that he stands ready to do anything, pay anything, suffer anything, to have this distressing blight removed from his daughter's good name. Mr. Brotherson was her dearest friend, and as such may have the clew to this mystery, but Mr. Brotherson may not be in a condition to speak for several weeks. Meanwhile, Mr.
Then, with a laugh almost as bitter in tone as that which rang from Brotherson's lips, he acknowledged that business had its necessities and that apologies from him were in order; adding, as they both stepped out into the rapidly darkening room: "We've played a bout, we two; and you've come out ahead. Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Brotherson. You've cleared yourself so far as I am concerned.
He said nothing of his walk in the woods or of what he saw there. "A meagre haul," he remarked at the close. "But that's as it should be, if you and I are right in our impressions and the clew to this mystery lies here in the character and daring of Orlando Brotherson. That's why I'm not down in the mouth. Which goes to show what a grip my prejudices have on me." "As prejudiced as a bulldog."
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