"You have no authority, sir, to make such a statement!" he exclaimed. "I want it distinctly understood that I would give half of what I possess to have the slayer of my son brought to justice."
"But you don't want this thing to go any further so far as Mrs. Challis Wrandall is concerned," said Smith coolly.
"Of course not, you miserable scoundrel!" cried the other in a rage. "She's no more guilty than I am."
"Don't call names, Mr. Wrandall," said Smith, a steely glitter in his eyes. "I am prepared to lay before you certain facts that I have unravelled, but I am not willing to give them to Mrs. Wrandall."
"My daughter-in-law spent the night at her own apartment, waiting for my son," said Wrandall, regaining control of himself. "That is positively known to me, sir. Positively!"
"How can you be sure of that, Mr. Wrandall?" asked Smith sharply.
The gaunt old face, suddenly very much older than it had been before, took on a stern, defiant expression.
"I spoke with her over the telephone at half past nine o'clock that night," said he steadily.
Smith was not the only one to be surprised by this startling declaration. Sara Wrandall's eyes widened ever so slightly, and one might have detected a sharp catch in her breath.
"She called you up?" asked Smith, after a moment to collect his wits.