"Neither do I," returned Cardona. "I think he's stalling. But it's not because he did anything — as I said before, he couldn't have."
"What is his purpose, then?"
"That spirit racket is his living, commissioner. With nine other people laying it on the spirits, is he going to say different?
"The point is this, commissioner. He knows some real person did that job— not a ghost. But he doesn't know who the party is. Get the angle? What happens to his reputation if he lets that out?"
"I understand," said Weston, nodding. "You have landed something there, Cardona. The man must be a fraud — I believe most of these mediums are fakes. But with this murder happening right beside him— while he was bound and helpless—"
"That's just it," interposed Cardona, as Weston became speculative. "But don't give me too much credit until I tell you where I got the tip. I've got something up my sleeve, commissioner."
"Yes?"
"Yes, sir. And you won't find it in the newspapers, either! With ten witnesses shouting that a ghost was the killer, there wasn't much chance for the one who said different crashing into print, was there?"
"Ah! There was another—"
"Commissioner," declared Cardona gravely, "there were twelve people in that room when I got there. Twelve, including the dead man.