"I got it from a box, at the coroner's office," he admitted.
"Mr. Garrison, what do you mean by withholding all these facts?" demanded Wicks sharply. "Where did Hardy get the box of cigars?"
Garrison would gladly have evaded this question, but he was helpless.
"They were a birthday present from his niece."
"This Miss Booth-Fairfax?"
"Yes."
"And you're in love with her!—masquerading as her husband! What do you mean by saying you've not attempted to shield her?"
"Now go slow, Mr. Wicks," cautioned Garrison. "I know what I'm doing in this case. It was given to me to ferret out—and I'll go through it to the end—no matter who is found guilty."
"That's better!" said Wicks. "You don't believe it's this young woman.
Who else could have as good a motive?"
Garrison was fighting for time. A sacrifice was necessary. He utilized young Durgin, who might, after all, be guilty.