“I saw Philip Rochester,” pointing dramatically toward him, “crawl out of the reception room window and dart into the street just as O'Ryan came in the front door with Helen.”
Detective Ferguson could not restrain a joyful exclamation. “So that was it!” he cried. “You were at the McIntyre house, and gave the poison to Turnbull there—and not in the court room—four hours before he died. You'll swing for that crime, my buck, in spite of your glib tongue and slippery ways.”
As he ceased speaking Ferguson's ever ready handcuffs swung suggestively from his hand, but Helen's agonized cry checked his approach toward Rochester, who stood stolidly waiting for him.
“Father! You cannot permit this monstrous injustice, Philip shall not suffer for another. No, Barbara,” as her sister strove to quiet her, “we must tell the truth.”
“Suppose I tell it for Colonel McIntyre,” Rochester advanced as the door opened and Sylvester ushered in Benjamin Clymer. “You have come in time, Clymer,” his voice deepened, the voice of a man accustomed to present a case and sway a court. “Wait, Sylvester, sit at that table and take down these charges—”
“Charges?” questioned Kent, watching his partner narrowly; he tossed a stenographic pad to Sylvester and made a place for him at his desk. “Go on, Rochester; charges against whom?”
“Charges against the man who, occupying a position of trust, planned to swindle the Metropolis Trust Company through forged notes and checks,” Rochester stated with slow emphasis. “Jimmie Turnbull learned that you, Clymer, were to visit Colonel McIntyre on Monday night, and he went there in disguise to find out if his suspicions were correct. The investigation cost him his life.”
Clymer, who had followed Rochester's statement, first with bewilderment and then with rising wrath, found his voice.
“You drunken scoundrel!” he roared. “How dare you!”
“Dare!” Rochester laughed recklessly. “Jimmie kept his wits to the last; his mind was clear; he recognized you in the prisoner's pen and he tried to call you, but his palsied tongue could not say Ben, but stuttered—B—b—b.”