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There was an unwonted gleam of excitement in the eyes of the venerable jurist as he returned to the waiting men. "Lentone police say they have the man who murdered Miller. They want you to come down there, Professor. A man by the name of Grasher " "Brasher," corrected Jimmy. "Yes, Brasher, he was on the wire. He seemed quite elated and he wants you to come right down there, Professor."
"Professor, I've heard a lot about you. I'd like to work with you. I'm a rough neck, a man without education, just a hard working detective, but I do the best I can. I'd like to " Brasher paused, floundered and reddened. There was a soft gleam in the deeply sunken bright blue eyes of the old scientist. He nodded. "Of course, I'll be happy to have your help. I will just look about "
He turned to his companions as Brasher departed; he smiled whimsically: "Since you insist on plunging me into these things, I might as well be prepared. I wired for several things that we may need before this is over." McCall was knitting his brow. He had followed with glowing admiration the exposition of the old savant.
Do I understand you to ask a pound for taking a pull at your master's pipe?" "I'm thinking that I'll have to make it two." "The deuce you are! Here, Pugh, lend me a pound." "I'm afraid I've left my purse behind." "Then lend me ten shillings Ananias!" "I doubt if I have more than five." "Then give me the five. And, Brasher, lend me the other fifteen." Brasher lent him the fifteen.
You can hear him from here." The "him," they could hear was Detective Brasher, slumped in a deep wicker chair, head thrown back, sound asleep, his snores causing a discordant note on the peaceful scene. At the touch of Jimmy's hand on his shoulder, he awakened. He smiled sheepishly as his eyes fell on the group standing about him and dragged himself out of his chair.
Detective Brasher was cordial to the visitors. He had been notified of their coming. He led the way to the room on the third floor where the body had been found that morning. "Nothin' to it, Professor," said Brasher, "nothin' to it. Mr. Miller used this room to write and read in and the next room for sleeping. You see it is a sort of suite, with a bath room and everything.
He now turned to the men who had been watching him. "I can now say definitely that Mr. Miller was shot with the muzzle somewhere between twelve and fifteen inches from his temple. I still do not understand why the killer approached so close without " "Morris Miller was almost stone deaf," interrupted Brasher. "Ah, that accounts for it; that clears up something that puzzled me."
"I confess," interpolated Brasher I noticed that he had put the pipe down on the table as though he were tired of holding it "that, to my thinking, such remarks are not appropriate. At the same time what you have told us is, I am bound to allow, a little curious. But of course what I require is ocular demonstration. I haven't seen the movement myself."
He turned abruptly and walked out. Boyle turned a smiling face to the other men in the room. "These mouthpieces have their little ways, haven't they? One would think HE was being accused of murder. Go on and ask what you like. I'll answer your questions because I haven't got anything to hide." "That's swell," said Brasher with thinly disguised sarcasm.
When he withdrew his head from his long scrutiny, even Matthews, who knew him best, could not tell from his demeanor if he had what he was seeking. For that matter, Matthews was completely in the dark as to what his mentor and foster father was looking for. Professor Brierly turned to Brasher, who had followed him into the room and was following his movements with cynical amusement.
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