"Perhaps," he said, sarcasm in his voice, his eyes again on Braceway, "it will occur to you that I've a right to know why this outrage is committed."
Once more he commanded Greenleaf with his eyes.
"The chief of police will hardly sanction it without some excuse, without a shadow of evidence."
"Yes," Greenleaf complied waveringly. "Er—, that is—er—I suppose you're certain about this, Mr. Braceway?"
"Let's have it! Let's have it all!" demanded Fulton, articulate at last, his clenched hands shaken by the palsy of rage.
Bristow, with a careless motion, brushed away the policeman's hand.
"By all means," he said, imperturbable still; "I demand it. I'm not guilty of murder. Not by the wildest flight of the craziest fancy can any such charge be substantiated."
Greenleaf, noting his iron nerve, his freedom from the slightest sign of panic, was dumbfounded, and believed in his innocence again.
"I have the proofs," Braceway said to the chief. "Do you want them here, and now?"
"It might be—er—as well, and—and fair, you know. Yes."