Morley, startled by the unexpected abruptness, answered shakily.
"I tell you I—I didn't see any struggle. That man, or those men, tried not to make any noise at all. He thought nobody saw him."
Braceway took a hand again in the examination, but their combined efforts got nothing further from the tired prisoner.
They tried to shake him with the accusation that he had entered the bungalow Monday night; they told him also they might take him back to Furmville at once, charged with the murder.
"It wouldn't make any difference to me," he said, making a weak attempt to laugh. "It wouldn't matter now. I'm not anxious to live anyhow."
Without warning, utter collapse struck him. He flung himself half-around on his chair so that his arms rested on its back, cradling his face. His body was contorted by gasping sobs, and his feet tapped the floor with the rapidity of those of a man running at top speed.
They left him with Major Ross. On the way back to the hotel, Bristow asked:
"What about Withers' story of his struggle—the 'big, strong man' who flung him down the walk?"
"There must have been another, a third man who came down the steps," Braceway answered quietly.
"An assumption," observed Bristow, "which rather strains my credulity."