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Updated: May 22, 2025
I'm in this game to stay, Sid, first because you are an old friend of mine and I think you are being made the victim of some sort of a dirty deal, and also because I'm not the kind of man to be bluffed out of a job. We are going right ahead. I got a note at the office, too." "A note!" Prale gasped. "Typewritten, but not on George Lerton's battered typewriter this time.
The sergeant next ushered in George Lerton. Prale sat up straight in his chair again. Here was where his proper alibi began, with the exception of Jim Farland. George Lerton's face was pale as he sat down at the end of the desk. "Know this man?" the captain asked. "He is my cousin, Sidney Prale." "How long has he been away from New York?" "About ten years," Lerton said.
The clothing merchant and the barber furnish the alibi." An expression of consternation was in George Lerton's face, and Jim Farland was quick to notice it. "Of course, I am glad for Sidney's sake," Lerton said. "But I had really believed that he had killed Shepley. It caused me a bit of trouble, too." "How do you mean?" Farland asked. "Shepley was a sort of client of mine," Lerton said.
He thanked Lerton once more and departed. Out in the corridor and some distance from the Lerton office, he took from his pocket the note he had written on Lerton's private typewriter and glanced at it quickly. Farland was merely verifying what he had noticed as he had typed the note. "That was a lucky hunch about that typewriter," he told himself.
"Let us hope so!" George Lerton said. There was something in the tone of his voice, however, that belied the words he spoke. Farland gave him a single, rapid glance, but the expression of Lerton's face told him nothing. Lerton was a broker and used to big business deals. He was a master of the art of the blank countenance, and Jim Farland knew it well.
"You look like a madman!" Lerton said. "Why on earth are you looking at me like that? You look as if you were ill " The expression in Farland's face made him stop, and he appeared to be a bit disconcerted. "Why did you kill Rufus Shepley?" Jim Farland demanded suddenly in a voice that seemed to sting. Lerton's face went white for an instant. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.
"What of that?" "That typewriter has a few bad keys, Sid. And I discovered this that the notes sent to the barber and merchant, that caused them to lie and try to smash your alibi, were written on the typewriter in George Lerton's office!" Prale sprang to his feet. "Then Lerton has something to do with this!" he cried. "He tried to get me to leave town, and he tried to break down my alibi.
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