"Well?"
"I told him to go to the devil. He merely laughed again and said that he was then on his way to my father's. After remarking that he would return the next evening at about five o'clock, he rejoined Señor Vargas and withdrew.
"When I had thought it over, my anger cooled somewhat, and I resolved to hear what the man had to say—to know if he would really go to the extreme of saying anything that would reflect upon a member of my family. This, I finally concluded, would put such an advantage into my hands that I could bring his attentions to an end for all time."
"You never heard, then, what it was he intended to say?"
"No. When next I saw him he was practically a dead man."
"Recurring once more to the night of the fourth, Doctor, did not Clay Fairchild come into your office shortly after De Sanchez expired?"
"He did."
"Relate the circumstance in full, please."
"About four or five minutes after Jim—Mr. Lynden—had left to notify the police of the tragedy, the door suddenly opened, and Clay entered the room. He stopped, his hand on the knob, and stood staring at De Sanchez with a look of bewilderment. This quickly gave way to an expression of horror, such as I never saw before in a sane human countenance. All at once he looked at me, and apparently tried to speak; but a queer, choking sound in the throat was the only result. Without an instant's warning—before Howe or I could realize it—he darted through the door and ran swiftly down the hall. Before that, however, I called upon him to speak and explain himself. I fail to remember just what I said; but his actions were very strange, and I didn't know what to make of them."
"Did Mr. Fairchild have on his hat when he entered your office?"