"It is an amazing thing," said he, in a speculative tone, "what a nice tangle this case is beginning to promise. Relate the bare facts, as we know them, to any disinterested person, and he would instantly say that Mobley Westbrook committed the deed. To be suddenly come upon, a smoking dagger in your hand—standing over a dying man—the provocation supplying a motive—and all that—h-m-m! pretty bad."
But Mr. Mount joy the next instant laughed in a way that signified it to be the height of absurdity to think of Doctor Westbrook as a murderer.
"There is not a phase or side of the man's character," he continued, "with which the crime can be made to fit. I can more easily imagine Mobley Westbrook—but of course I know him so well that personal bias influences me largely in his favor. It would require evidence quite conclusive, though, to move me to proceed against him. It's queer, anyhow, a family of their quiet, humdrum respectability being mixed with an affair of this nature, even remotely; there is more behind it than we now imagine; and I believe there will be plenty of work for one John Converse."
As if this colloquy had been a scene on a stage, and the two last words a cue, the door opened, and the Captain of detectives himself entered. He walked to the desk with manner quiet and deferential, gravely returning the salutations of the two officials seated there.
"Here's John to speak for himself," said the Coroner.
"Theseus has come to lead us from this labyrinth of mystery," laughed Mr. Mountjoy. "Silent and enigmatical servant of Destiny, who knows what momentous knowledge is hidden behind that impassive exterior? John, are you ready to point the stern and unrelenting finger of denunciation at the guilty wretch, and say, 'Thou art the man!'?"
But the Captain did not respond to the lawyer's bantering humor. Instead, he seated himself on one side of the table, remarking merely:
"Gentlemen, this is a very serious case."
"Serious!" cried the District Attorney, his mood in no wise changing. "Serious? which is but one method of informing us that there has been a dearth of clues." He suddenly leaned forward, rested his elbows upon the table, and interlocked his slender fingers. "Come, John, what have you discovered?" he concluded more soberly.