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A cold shiver ran down Granice's spine, but he repeated obstinately: "That's not Dr. Stell." "Not Stell? Why, man, I KNOW him. Look here he comes. If it isn't Stell, he won't speak to me." The little dried-up man was moving slowly up the aisle. As he neared McCarren he made a slight gesture of recognition. "How'do, Doctor Stell?
There IS a play, I suppose? It's as safe to ask you that as to say to some men: 'How's the baby?" Denver laughed good-naturedly, and Granice thought how thick and heavy he had grown. It was evident, even to Granice's tortured nerves, that the words had not been uttered in malice and the fact gave him a new measure of his insignificance. Denver did not even know that he had been a failure!
He cleared his throat slowly; then he turned his head to the lawyer and said: "I could explain the Lenman murder myself." Ascham's eye kindled: he shared Granice's interest in criminal cases. "By Jove! You've had a theory all this time? It's odd you never mentioned it. Go ahead and tell me. There are certain features in the Lenman case not unlike this Ashgrove affair, and your idea may be a help."
"He murdered him murdered his cousin?" "Sure as you live. Only don't split on me. It's about the queerest business I ever ran into... DO ABOUT IT? Why, what was I to do? I couldn't hang the poor devil, could I? Lord, but I was glad when they collared him, and had him stowed away safe in there!" The tall man listened with a grave face, grasping Granice's statement in his hand.
And I've taken the opportunity to write out a clearer statement " Granice's hand shook so that he could hardly draw the folded paper from his pocket. As he did so he noticed that the reporter was accompanied by a tall man with grave compassionate eyes. It came to Granice in a wild thrill of conviction that this was the face he had waited for...
His hand on Granice's shoulder, as he turned to go "District Attorney be hanged; see a doctor, see a doctor!" he had cried; and so, with an exaggerated laugh, had pulled on his coat and departed. Granice turned back into the library. It had never occurred to him that Ascham would not believe his story.
"He murdered him murdered his cousin?" "Sure as you live. Only don't split on me. It's about the queerest business I ever ran into... Do about it? Why, what was I to do? I couldn't hang the poor devil, could I? Lord, but I was glad when they collared him, and had him stowed away safe in there!" The tall man listened with a grave face, grasping Granice's statement in his hand.
And though a week had elapsed since the visit of that authorized official, nothing had been heard from the District Attorney's office: Allonby had apparently dropped the matter again. But McCarren wasn't going to drop it not he! He positively hung on Granice's footsteps. They had spent the greater part of the previous day together, and now they were off again, running down clues.
Granice to ask him to repeat the statement he had made about the Lenman murder. His manner was so quiet, so reasonable and receptive, that Granice's self-confidence returned. Here was a sensible man a man who knew his business it would be easy enough to make him see through that ridiculous alibi! Granice offered Mr.
I had to, my dear fellow: it's part of my business. Stell is a detective, if you come to that every doctor is." The trembling of Granice's lips increased, communicating itself in a long quiver to his facial muscles. He forced a laugh through his dry throat. "Well and what did he detect?" "In you? Oh, he thinks it's overwork overwork and too much smoking.
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