The interrogator broke the silence at last:
"Of course, Mr. Withers, there's some good explanation for your secret trip to Furmville?"
"Well—er—yes."
"What is it?"
Withers hesitated.
"I—I don't know that I care to say now—to discuss it yet."
Bristow shot Greenleaf a prompting glance.
"You see, it's this way," the chief acted on the silent suggestion; "I'm in charge of this matter, the capture of the murderer, and Mr. Bristow is helping me. In fact, he's the man in command. His abilities fit him for the work. If the man who killed your wife is caught, it will be through the work of Mr. Bristow. I'm confident of that. Moreover, every minute we lose now may be disastrous to us. Consequently, we want to hear your story. You appreciate our position, I know."
Withers licked his dry lips with the tip of his dry tongue.
"How about the newspapers?" he asked.