"I'm certain," he replied. "There wasn't any one around but them we know of. And that being the case there couldn't be——"
But Ashton-Kirk stopped him.
"Just one moment! Don't you think you are rather offhand in saying 'and that being the case'? Are you quite sure that it is the case?"
Osborne pulled himself up straight in his chair and stared at the investigator. Bat Scanlon, watching and listening, felt a little stir of excitement as he realized what his friend was about.
"He's getting him worked up into a state of doubt," was Bat's opinion. "In a minute he'll have him so he won't know what he believes."
However, there was more than this in the big athlete's thoughts. The way Ashton-Kirk took to bring doubt to the mind of the headquarters man awoke a vague distrust in that of Scanlon. The question of motive filled him with uneasiness—that as to the likelihood of a person other than young Burton being near enough to strike the death blow, turned him cold and helpless.
"You've got something on your mind," said Osborne to the investigator. He arose to his feet and stood with shoulders squared and legs very wide apart. "What's it all about?"
From his coat pocket Ashton-Kirk drew a glittering little revolver.
"I picked this up on the lawn at No. 620 Duncan Street the morning I went over the place," said he, quietly.
The big headquarters man almost snatched the weapon from his hand, so disturbed was he at this announcement. With greedy eyes he inspected it.