"You look like a madman!" Lerton said. "Why on earth are you looking at me like that? You look as if you were ill——"
The expression in Farland's face made him stop, and he appeared to be a bit disconcerted.
"Why did you kill Rufus Shepley?" Jim Farland demanded suddenly in a voice that seemed to sting.
Lerton's face went white for an instant. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.
"Are—are you insane?" he gasped. "What on earth do you mean by this? I'll call a clerk and——"
"The door is locked," Farland said, taking the automatic from his pocket. "You raise your voice, touch a button or make any move that I do not like, and I'll plug you and say afterward that I had placed you under arrest and had to shoot when you tried to escape. Answer my question, Lerton! You are at the end of your rope! Why did you kill Rufus Shepley and then try to hang the crime on your cousin, Sidney Prale?"
"This is preposterous!" Lerton exclaimed.
"Oh, I've got the goods on you, Lerton! I wouldn't be here talking like this if I didn't! You're going to the electric chair!"
Lerton laughed rather nervously. "I always thought that you were a good detective, Jim, but I am beginning to have doubts now," he said. "What has put such an idea into your head?"
"Facts gathered and welded together," Farland told him. "Don't try to carry out the bluff any longer, Lerton. And don't call me Jim. I never allow murderers to get familiar with me!"