“You could drive a hearse through the hole they've made in him,” he rumbled. He wheeled on Mary and Dick. “So!” he shouted, “now it's murder!... Well, hand it over. Where's the gun?”
Followed a moment's pause. Then the Inspector spoke harshly to Cassidy. He still felt himself somewhat dazed by this extraordinary event, but he was able to cope with the situation. He nodded toward Dick as he gave his order: “Search him!”
Before the detective could obey the direction, Dick took the revolver from his pocket where he had bestowed it, and held it out.
And it so chanced that at this incriminating crisis for the son, the father hastily strode within the library. He had been aroused by the Inspector's shouting, and was evidently greatly perturbed. His usual dignified air was marred by a patent alarm.
“What's all this?” he exclaimed, as he halted and stared doubtfully on the scene before him.
Burke, in a moment like this, was no respecter of persons, for all his judicious attentions on other occasions to those whose influence might serve him well for benefits received.
“You can see for yourself,” he said grimly to the dumfounded magnate. Then, he fixed sinister eyes on the son. “So,” he went on, with somber menace in his voice, “you did it, young man.” He nodded toward the detective. “Well, Cassidy, you can take 'em both down-town.... That's all.”
The command aroused Dick to remonstrance against such indignity toward the woman whom he loved.
“Not her!” he cried, imploringly. “You don't want her, Inspector! This is all wrong!”
Now, at last, Mary interposed with a new spirit. She had regained, in some measure at least, her poise. She was speaking again with that mental clarity which was distinctive in her.