"Indeed he might, but as there are people to swear to his presence in another part of town at the time of the crime, he is beyond suspicion. I wish you had such an alibi, dearest."
"Oh, I wish I did! Otis, what do you think? You know I was locked in that house and nobody could get in. You know I didn't kill Uncle Robert. Now who did?"
"Janet," I said, very seriously, "I don't know. And I have nearly lost hope of finding out. So I will tell you what I have decided to do; I'm going to consult Fleming Stone."
"Fleming Stone? Who is he?"
"He is probably the cleverest detective in the city. I feel sure that he can solve our mystery, if he will undertake it."
"Oh, don't have a detective!" she cried; "at least, not that Mr. Stone. He can find out everything!"
"And don't you want everything found out?" I asked, looking at her intently.
"No!" she cried vehemently. "I don't! I want Uncle Robert's death always to remain a mystery!"
"It can't be a greater mystery than you are!" I exclaimed, for the words were wrung from me as I looked at the girl's face, which had again taken on that white, impassive look.
It was at that moment that Laura returned, and as she entered the library, Janet fled away to her own room.