"Certainly not," said Nick. "Do you remember the question I asked you on the first day of the investigation? I asked, 'Who has been murdered?'"
"Well?"
"I answer that question now. Nobody has been murdered. Your brother is alive. There is nothing the matter with him, except a scalp wound. The body found was a substitute which you procured. It was you who made the wounds with the spade."
"This is all bare assertion," cried Deever, who, in irons, sat upon the floor with his back against a chair. "You cannot prove what you say."
"Let me first explain how the trick was done," said Nick, coolly. "Your brother, after he had somewhat recovered from the effects of the blow he had received, went to your house.
"He wished you to help him get revenge upon Dr. Jarvis. You had your own grudge against him on account of your unsuccessful suit for his daughter.
"You saw the chance of a deeper revenge than your brother had any idea of. You then planned this whole conspiracy. He was to go away forever. You were to remain, and make this charge against the doctor."
"It is an infernal lie," shrieked Deever. "Where is my brother? I demand that you produce him."
"Your brother is now hidden in your house at Nyack. It was vacant. You told him to go there, until you could make arrangements to get him safely away. As to the body, you bought it of a grave-robber."
"How do you pretend to know that?" asked Deever, scornfully.