Brencherly's gaze shifted to the bronze inkwells.
"If I knew just how this event affected you, sir, I might be able to advise."
It was his employer's turn to look away.
"I know absolutely nothing about the cause of Mahr's death. I do know that there was no love lost between us; also that I was the last person known to have been with him. Isn't that enough to show you how I am affected?"
"And the motive of your quarrel?" The detective felt his heart thump and wondered at his own daring.
"We were rival competitors for the Heim Vandyke--he got it away from me."
"Does that answer my question, sir?" Again Brencherly gasped at his own temerity.
"Young man," bellowed Gard, half rising from his chair, "what are you trying to infer?"
Brencherly stood up. "Please, Mr. Gard, be frank with me. I want to help you; I want to see you through. It can be done--I'm sure of it. No one knows about your trouble with Mahr. What he wanted with the combination of that safe I can't guess, but it was for no good; and you told me yourself that he had secured it. But everything may work out all right if you let me help you. I'm used to this cross-examination business, and I can coach you so they won't get a thing. I don't pretend to be in a class with you, sir; don't think I'm so conceited. I'm just specialized, that's all. I want to help, and I can if you'll let me."
Gard's face underwent a kaleidoscopic series of changes; then astonishment and relief finally triumphed, and were followed by hysterical laughter. Brencherly was disconcerted.