“I have come to the conclusion that the coachman, Hamilton, lied when he said he had not stopped at the house for Senator Carew on Monday night,” replied Brett. “Having lied in the beginning, he is now afraid to admit the truth for fear that he may be convicted of killing the Senator.”
“That sounds plausible,” acknowledged Colonel Thornton.
“I don’t believe it.” Douglas shook his head obstinately. “It has been proved already that the Senator did not spend Monday evening at home. I tell you the key to this mystery is how Senator Carew got into that carriage on such a stormy night without getting his clothes wet. When you have solved that problem you will know who committed the murder.”
Thornton was about to reply when the hall door was thrown open, and Eleanor, her lovely eyes opened to their widest, exclaimed:
“Uncle Dana, the Secretary of State wishes to see you!”
“God bless me!” Colonel Thornton sprang out of his chair as the distinguished statesman followed Eleanor into the room.
“Please don’t let me disturb you,” exclaimed the Secretary, as Douglas stepped forward, and Brett edged toward the door. “I only dropped in for a second to pick up Mr. Hunter,” laying a hand on Douglas’ arm. “They told me at the Albany that you were stopping here for a few days, so I came over in my motor to ask you to drive back to my office with me, although it is Sunday.”
“Won’t you be seated, Mr. Secretary?” asked Colonel Thornton, as Douglas hastily gathered up some papers which he had left on the center table, and started for the door.
“Thanks, no; it is imperative that I get to my office——” The Secretary stopped speaking as a man darted inside the door and slammed it shut. In his haste the newcomer collided with Douglas and then collapsed into the nearest chair.
“Philip Winthrop!” gasped Eleanor, while the others gazed at the exhausted figure in amazement.