"Thank you," said Bethel, with real warmth. "But——I might have had confederates."
"No. Doctor Barnard's statement as to the manner of the child's death deprives you of a motive for the deed; then the too-easily found tools, and the stripped-off clothing could hardly be work of your planning or ordering. Depend upon it, when Trafton has done a little calm thinking, it will see this matter as I see it."
"Possibly," with a shade of skepticism in his voice. "At least, when I have unearthed these plotters against me, they will see the matter as it is, and that day I intend to bring to pass."
The fire was nearly extinct on the tip of his cigar, he replaced it in his mouth and seemingly only intent upon rekindling the spark; this done, he smoked in silence a moment and then said:
"As to the author of the mischief, or his motive, I am utterly at a loss. I have given up trying to think out the mystery. I shall call in the help of the best detective I can find, and see what he makes of the matter."
Gracious heavens! here was another lion coming down upon myself and my luckless partner! Trafton was about to be inundated with detectives. My brain worked hard and fast. Something must be done, and that speedily, or Carnes and I must retreat mutely, ingloriously.
While I smoked in a seemingly careless reverie, I was weighing the pros and cons of a somewhat uncertain venture. Should I let this third detective come and risk a collision, or should I make a clean breast of it, avow my identity, explain the motive of my sojourn in Trafton, and ask Bethel to trust his case to Carnes and myself? Almost resolved upon this latter course, I began to feel my way.
"A good detective ought to sift the matter, I should think," I said. "I suppose you have your man in view?"
"Candidly, no," he replied, with a dubious shake of the head. "I'm afraid I am not well posted as regards the police, never expecting to have much use for the gentry. I must go to the city and hunt up the right man."