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By the way, has Paredes ever borrowed any large sums?" Bobby hesitated. After all, Paredes and he had been good friends. "A little here and there," he answered reluctantly. "Has he ever paid you back?" "I don't recall," Bobby answered, flushing. "You know I've never been exactly calculating about money. Whenever he wanted it I was always glad to help Carlos out. Why do you ask?"
On the 18th of April, 1846, General Paredes addressed a letter to the commander on that frontier in which he stated to him: "At the present date I suppose you, at the head of that valiant army, either fighting already or preparing for the operations of a campaign;" and, "Supposing you already on the theater of operations and with all the forces assembled, it is indispensable that hostilities be commenced, yourself taking the initiative against the enemy."
The detective's laugh was disagreeable. "You trying to make a fool of me? That isn't healthy." As Bobby hurried across the hall and up the stairs he heard Paredes answer: "You should speak to Doctor Groom. He says this place is too crowded by the unpleasant past " Bobby climbed out of hearing. He entered his bedroom and locked the door.
Concealed in a woollen sack, with the slender shaft thrust through and through the folds, was a peculiarly long, stout, and sharp hat pin. Rawlins drew it out. He held it up triumphantly. "Now maybe we're not getting somewheres! That's the boy that did the trick in both cases, and it's what scratched Mr. Paredes. Maybe you noticed how quickly she came upstairs to hide this when she got in."
There sprang to his mind the mad thought that the detective, malevolent in life, had long after death snatched from his hand the evidence, carefully gathered, on which everything for him depended. Bobby's inability to cry out alone prevented his alarming the others and announcing to Paredes and Doctor Groom his unlawful presence in the room.
Bobby saw that the man had discarded his intolerant temper. From that change he drew a new hope. He accepted it as the beginning of fulfilment of his prophecy last night that an accident to Howells and the entrance of a new man into the case would give him a fighting chance. It was clearly Paredes at the moment who filled the district attorney's mind. "Go after him," he said shortly to Rawlins.
With a hesitant manner he recited the discovery of the queer light in the deserted house, its unaccountable disappearances their failure to find its source. "I was thinking," he explained, "that Paredes alone saw the light give out. It was his suggestion that he go to the front of the house to investigate. This path might be used as a short cut to the deserted house.
Unless they could demolish the detective's theory he, Bobby Blackburn, would go to the death house. A fire blazed in the big hall fireplace. Paredes stood with his back to it, smoking and warming his hands. A man sat in the shadow of a deep leather chair, his rough, unpolished boots stretched toward the flaming logs.
The impression of the heel was very light. Paredes, it was clear, had walked from the house on tiptoe. "Follow on," Robinson commanded. "I told this fellow I wanted to question him. I've scared him off." Keeping his light on the ground, Rawlins led the way across the clearing. The trail was simple enough to follow. Each of the Panamanian's footprints was distinct.
At least it's still wet from the snow." Paredes opened his eyes. He looked for a moment at the black cloak. He closed his eyes again. "You could recognize the woman who attacked you?" Rawlins said. Paredes shook his head. "You've forgotten how dark it is. Please don't ask me even to swear that it was a woman." "You're trying to say it wasn't flesh and blood," Blackburn quavered.
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