"Tracey," interrupted Arnold, rising, "she is describing Jasher."
"That's so," said the American, without surprise; "ever since Bocaros confessed that Jasher was his friend I have suspected. Well, now we know at last who killed Mrs. Brand."
"Another woman--another woman," moaned Mrs. Baldwin, "another victim."
"It will be his last," said Tracey grimly; "thank God he's not Gerty's poppa. I'm sorry for the children, though."
Mrs. Baldwin rose. "They must never know--never!"
"If Jasher, or Rufus as you call him, is caught he'll speak out, and the whole business will come to light," said Tracey.
"I don't know about that," said Arnold, with a troubled look; "let us see what we can do. Perhaps Jasher may be innocent."
"If there was murder to be done he did it," said Mrs. Baldwin, in a sharp manner; "do what you like, but keep the man out of my life. I'm dangerous. Quite as dangerous as he is."
"It's all right. You say nothing," said Tracey, and thereupon made Mrs. Baldwin lie down. Then he sent Arnold to wait for him outside, and soothed the woman. When he came out, he walked in silence to the gate. "I've mailed that letter," he said, "and sent a wire also. You bet Jasher, not suspecting anything wrong, will be at the little house yonder to-night."
"Will we get in the police?"