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She lifted herself slowly out of her seat, and, bracing herself with one hand against the top of the chair, stood for a tense second facing Luckstone. "Let Mr. Beard tell!" she said. The words had an electrical effect. Manning, Greig, Coroner Hart leaned excitedly over the desk. Beard was already on his feet, eager to end the distressing situation.
"Is Mrs. Collins at home?" asked Britz. "Who wishes to speak with her?" "This is Mr. Luckstone's office," said the detective. "Mr. Luckstone the attorney for Mr. Whitmore." Evidently a maid had answered the call, for a long silence ensued while the servant carried Britz's message to her mistress. Finally a voice at the other end of the wire said: "This is Mrs. Collins!"
Luckstone, you may think your crafty brain has succeeded in outwitting the police, but it hasn't. From the outset I recognized your handiwork in guiding the various persons concerned in this murder case. You were Whitmore's lawyer! You're Beard's attorney, you're Mrs. Collins's counsel, you represent Collins, and probably Ward also." "Mr. Ward is my client," acknowledged the lawyer.
In the first place, had he fired the shot, Luckstone would have worked furiously to divert suspicion from him. Every bit of damaging evidence would have been destroyed. It was because Luckstone knew that Collins was innocent that he was willing we should accuse him of the crime. "Equally convincing is the attitude of the others in the case. You must remember none of them had any use for Collins.
"You have fortified them all behind a wall of silence," pursued Britz in even voice. "But the moment I give the signal, the wall will crumble and your clients will simply fall over one another in their desire to talk." "I shall be interested to see the wizard's wand with which you're going to achieve so much!" Luckstone sneered. "I promise you that pleasure."
Beard's house was permitted to spend the night in question with his parents in Newark. So there is nothing left but to ask Mr. Beard to tell us who killed Mr. Whitmore." Thus far Britz, Luckstone and Coroner Hart had occupied the center of the stage. To them had fallen all the speaking parts.
"Simply that you have been invited here as a witness," the detective replied. "Mr. Beard is going to clear the mystery surrounding Mr. Whitmore's death. He's going to tell us who killed his employer." "Not a word!" cautioned Luckstone. "Beard, I'll make your position clear to you!" said Britz dryly. "I'll let you know precisely where you stand.
Luckstone and his clients sat like beings who felt the ground slipping from under them, yet were helpless in the paralyzing fear that had seized them. The coroner's eyes traveled from Britz to Manning and Greig, as if seeking confirmation of the detective's statement. But he found only amazement written in their features.
Evidently something which Luckstone had told him flashed across his mind, for he seemed to come out of his bewildered state, and again he adopted an air of resolute opposition. "I won't say another word." Britz met this altered attitude of Collins with a swift transformation of his own. His face contracted until every line seemed to harden into an expression of stern determination.
Britz pressed the receiver tightly to his ear, as if afraid that some word of hers might escape his hearing. "Mr. Luckstone wishes me to say that Mr. Whitmore's will has been found," said the detective. If the woman realized the significance of the information, her voice did not betray it. "Well?" she exclaimed, as if the subject held but a mild interest for her. "Mr.
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