"So was I," was the instant rejoinder. "Wingfield is all kinds of a decent fellow; and the way he has untangled the thing is nothing short of masterly. But I had to tie his tongue; you know I had to do that, Loudon."
"Of course, you had to."
Silence again for a little space; and then:
"There is no doubt in your mind that he has hit upon the true solution of all the little mysteries?"
Bromley shook his head slowly. "None at all, I am sorry to say. I have suspected it, in part, at least, for a good while. And I had proof positive before Wingfield gave it to us."
"How?" queried Ballard.
Bromley was still fingering the cartridges. "I hate to tell you, Breckenridge. And yet you ought to know," he added. "It concerns you vitally."
Ballard's smile was patient. "I am well past the shocking point," he averred. "After what we have pulled through in the last hour we may as well make a clean sweep of it."
"Well, then; I didn't stumble over the canyon cliff that night four weeks ago: I was knocked over."
"What!"