Howard was silent a moment, as if racking his brain, trying to remember.
"A thousand—two thousand. I forget. I think one thousand."
"Did he say he'd lend you the money?" demanded the inquisitor.
"No," replied the prisoner, with hesitation. "He couldn't—he—poor chap—he——"
"Ah!" snapped the captain. "He refused—that led to words. There was a quarrel, and——" Suddenly leaning forward until his face almost touched Howard's, he hissed rather than spoke: "You shot him!"
Howard gave an involuntary step backward, as if he realized the trap being laid for him.
"No, no!" he cried.
Quickly following up his advantage, Captain Clinton shouted dramatically:
"You lie! He was found on the floor in this room—dead. You were trying to get out of the house without being seen. You hadn't even stopped to wash the blood off your hands. All you fellers make mistakes. You relied on getting away unseen. You never stopped to think that the blood on your hands would betray you." Gruffly he added: "Now, come, what's the use of wasting all this time? It won't go so hard with you if you own up. You killed Robert Underwood!"
Howard shook his head. There was a pathetic expression of helplessness on his face.