“Yes.”
“That’s all. Come on, Hardy.” and somewhat unceremoniously, Stone took leave, and made for the nearest telephone station.
After that, matters whizzed. Stone had called the Police Headquarters and asked that an officer be sent with a warrant for the arrest of Bates.
“How do you know where he is?” asked Hardy, nearly bursting with curiosity.
“I’m not sure, but at least I know where to start looking for him,” Stone replied, as the two went back the way they had come.
Stone stopped at the boarding-house he had noticed on the way to the sanatorium, and rang the bell.
Sure enough, Bates lived there and Bates was at home.
At Stone’s first questions he broke down and confessed to the assault with the black-jack.
“But I didn’t kill her!” he cried, “she was already dead! Oh, my God! can I ever forget those terrible, staring eyes! The saints forgive me! I was half crazy. There she was, dead, and yet smiling and happy looking! Oh, sir, what does it all mean?”