It was as if a bomb had burst. We all sat appalled, for at the first thought it seemed as if this admission proclaimed Graham Leroy a guilty man. The picture flashed into my mind. This strong man, capable I felt sure, of the whole range of elemental passions, killing, for some reason unknown to me, his client, who was equally capable of rage and angry passion. I seemed to see him bending over his victim, and inadvertently dropping the tell-tale key from his pocket. But I think it was an effect of the dramatic situation that conjured up this picture in my mind, for it was immediately dispelled as Janet's voice broke on the tense silence.

"I cannot fail to see the trend of your implications, Mr. Buckner," she said, and her tones were haughty, and even supercilious; "I suppose you are daring to insinuate that Mr. Leroy might have been in my uncle's room on Wednesday night, late. But let me remind you that I myself put the chain on the door at eleven o'clock, after which it was impossible for Mr. Leroy to enter."

The old argument: "How could he get in?"

And though this argument seemed to turn suspicion toward Janet, it did not in the least do so to my mind.

Of course, I had no answer to the question, but that did not change my conviction that Janet was innocent. Could Leroy be guilty? I didn't know, and I didn't much care, if only suspicion could be turned away from Janet!

It was by an effort that I brought my attention back to the conversation going on.

"Will you tell me, Mr. Leroy, where you were on Wednesday night?" went on the District Attorney, making no recognition of Janet's speech beyond a slight bow in her direction.

"I went to Utica," answered Leroy.

"At what time?"

Again there was a lengthy interval of silence, and then Leroy said, in a low voice, "Rather late in the evening."

"On what train?"

"On a late train."

"The midnight train?"

"Yes;" the answer was fairly blurted out as if in utter exasperation.

Although the rest of his hearers started at the realization of all that this implied, Mr. Buckner proceeded quietly. "Where were you between eleven and twelve o'clock, on Wednesday night?"

"I refuse to say."

"I think I must insist upon an answer, Mr. Leroy. Were you at the station long before train time?"

"No."

"You reached the station then but a short time before the train left?"

"That is right."

"Did you go directly from your home to the station?"

"Perhaps not directly, but I made no stop on the way."

"What did you do then, since you say you did not go directly?"

"I walked about the streets."

"Why did you do this?"

"Partly for the exercise, and partly because I preferred not to reach the station until about time for my train to leave."

"And did your walking about the streets bring you anywhere near this locality?"

"That I refuse to answer."

"But you must answer, Mr. Leroy."

"Not if it incriminates myself."

"Then your refusal to answer is the same as affirmative. I shall assume that you were in this locality between eleven and twelve o'clock on Wednesday night."

"What if he was?" broke in Janet; "no matter how much he was in this locality, he couldn't get into our apartment, and so it has not the slightest bearing on the case!"

"That is so," said George Lawrence; "unless it can be proved that Mr. Leroy was able to enter through a locked and chained door, I think it is none of our business where he may have been at the time the crime was committed."

"You're all working from the wrong end," said Leroy, suddenly. "Of course the murder was committed by some professional burglar, who effected his entrance in some way unknown to us. Forget, for a moment, the question of how he got in, and turn your energies to finding some clever and expert housebreaker who is at large."

"What could be the motive of a professional burglar?" said Mr. Buckner.

"The robbery of the money," I broke in eagerly, delighted that Leroy should have started suspicion of this sort.

"Can you tell us anything regarding a large sum of money which it is assumed Mr. Pembroke had in his possession the night he was killed?" Mr. Buckner asked of Leroy.

"I can tell you that I took him a large sum of money,—ten thousand dollars,—on Tuesday evening.

"He had asked you to do this?"

"He had; giving the reason that he wished to pay it to some man who was coming to get it, and who wanted cash."

"J.S.!" I said, involuntarily.

"That's the murderer!" declared Laura. "I've suspected that J.S. from the very beginning. Why don't you look him up, Mr. Buckner, if you want to find the criminal?"

"All in good time, Mrs. Mulford," the district attorney answered, but I knew that he had seen the letter which the Coroner had shown me, stating that J.S. would not come on Wednesday evening as he had telegraphed. Still, if J.S. had come, and with evil intent, the letter might have been a blind. But again, if J.S. had come for money, and had received it, why should he kill Mr. Pembroke? Truly, there was no logical direction in which to look, save toward Janet, and that way I declined to look.

Mr. Buckner did not seem inclined to ask any more definite questions. I concluded he wished to take time to think the matter over by himself.

"It seems to me this way," he said; "we have a great many clues to work from, and until they're traced to more definite conclusions we are unable to attach suspicion to anyone. We know that Mr. Pembroke was killed at or about midnight. We know the apartment was securely locked and fastened at that time. We must assume, therefore, that whoever did the deed could not get into the house between eleven and twelve,—he must have been in the house, therefore, before the door was chained."

"If by that you mean Miss Pembroke," burst out George Lawrence, angrily, "I'll have you know——"

"I don't necessarily mean Miss Pembroke," said Mr. Buckner, but he said it so gravely, that I knew his suspicions, notwithstanding Leroy and his key, were in Janet's direction. "I am thinking just now of the possibility of an intruder who might have come in much earlier, and secreted himself in the house until midnight."

"Then he must have stayed in the house until morning," said Lawrence.

"He might have done so," agreed Mr. Buckner.

"But it is incredible," said Leroy, "that the burglar would have remained after the deed was done. Why would he not take off the chain and go away as silently as he came?"

"It might be," said Mr. Buckner, thoughtfully, "that he meant to cast suspicion upon the inmates of the house themselves."

So he did hark back to Janet after all! He meant us to understand that he thought the crime was committed either by Janet, or by somebody who planned to throw suspicion on Janet. Either theory seemed to me absurd.

I was glad when Mr. Buckner at last took his departure. He was certainly at sea regarding the matter. He suspected Janet, to be sure; but he also had doubts concerning the entire innocence of Graham Leroy. And surely that key was a bit of incriminating evidence, if ever there were such a thing.

And yet, when it came to a question of evidence, what could be more incriminating than that chained door as a proof against Janet? And so Mr. Buckner went away leaving the rest of us to discuss the new turn events had taken.

It must have been the result of Mr. Buckner's implied accusation of Leroy that gave us all a feeling of loyalty and helpfulness toward the man. I don't think anyone present suspected him of crime. But the key matter was inexplicable, and too, Leroy's manner and speech had not been frank or ingenuous. If he really had been in Robert Pembroke's bedroom on Wednesday night, he could not have acted differently under the fire of Mr. Buckner's questions. And though each of us, I felt sure, was considering the possible explanation of the key, yet it was difficult to speak of it without embarrassment.

But Leroy himself introduced the subject.

"Confounded queer about that key," he said, but he said it thoughtfully, more as if talking to himself than to us.

"It is queer," I said, eagerly taking up the subject; "if you had it Wednesday morning, and it was found in Mr. Pembroke's room Thursday morning, there must be an explanation somewhere."

"Yes; there must;" and Graham Leroy's lips closed as if in a sudden determination to say nothing more about that matter.

"Can't you suggest any explanation?" asked George Lawrence.

"No, I can't," and the decision in Leroy's tones forbade any further reference to the key. "But I am here now," he went on, "to read to you, Mr. Lawrence, and to you, Miss Pembroke, the will of your late uncle. Except for a few minor bequests, you two are equal heirs. Mr. Lawrence is executor, and therefore I will conduct the legal formalities with him, and I need not trouble Miss Pembroke with such matters. Of course, it goes without saying that anything I can do in the investigation of this awful tragedy will be done. Of course, you will want legal advice Miss Pembroke, since the authorities seem to consider you under surveillance."

I waited a moment, to give Janet opportunity to speak first concerning me, and she did so. Her beautiful face was pale, but her dark eyes flashed, as she said: "I feel sure I shall need legal counsel, Mr. Leroy, and therefore I have retained Mr. Landon as my lawyer."

Graham Leroy was astounded. I could read that, in the sudden start he gave, and the half-breathed exclamation which he suppressed. But in a moment, he recovered his poise, and spoke with a cold dignity. "I suppose, Janet, you had some good reason for preferring Mr. Landon's services to my own."

"I had," returned Janet, in tones as icy as his own; "also, Mr. Landon and Mrs. Mulford have been exceedingly kind to me, and I am sure whatever emergency may arise, if the case is brought to trial, Mr. Landon will use his best efforts in my behalf."

If Leroy was angry at her preferring me to himself, he lost sight of it for the moment, in the shock given him by Janet's words.

"The case brought to trial!" he exclaimed. "Why, there is no case as yet. What do you mean?"

Janet looked at him steadily. "I may be tried," she said, "for the murder of my Uncle Robert."

"What nonsense!" cried George Lawrence; "they'll never dare do such a thing as that!"

"They'll dare fast enough," said Leroy; "but they shall never do it! They'll try me first!"

A sudden light broke over me. Leroy's hesitation and dubious statements might have this meaning. He might himself suspect Janet of the crime, and he might be determined to be let himself thought guilty in her place. This didn't quite explain the key, but I hadn't thought it out thoroughly yet, and if for quixotic reasons he wanted to make it appear that he was implicated, he had certainly made a good start. Alas, every new development pointed or might be construed to point toward Janet. I longed for a frank talk with Leroy, but I knew that would be impracticable. For if he intended to muddle the case and direct suspicion toward himself in order to turn it away from Janet, he would pursue those same tactics with me. And beside, although he hid it, I well knew that he was chagrined and angry at the fact of my being chosen for Janet's lawyer instead of himself. So I discarded any hope I might have formed of getting the truth out of Leroy, and left that to the official authorities.

At present, Leroy's intention seemed to be to discard all question of crime or criminal, and attend to the business in hand of Mr. Pembroke's will.

I myself saw no necessity for immediate proceedings in this matter, but Leroy insisted upon it, and insisted too, that both Janet and George should go with him at once into the Pembroke apartment, where, he said, there were papers and documents necessary at the moment.

The fact that I was not invited to accompany them, was made so patent that I had no desire to intrude my presence, although as Miss Pembroke's lawyer I could have done so. But I concluded that one reason for Leroy's haste to get at those papers, was his wish to get rid of me. Nor was it entirely to be wondered at that he should want an interview alone with the two cousins. I was a comparative stranger to him, my sister an entire stranger; whereas he had been for years a friend of the Pembroke household. And so the three went away to the apartment across the hall; and I was left alone with Laura.

The door had scarcely closed behind them, before Laura spoke her mind. "That Leroy is the guilty man," she said; "don't say, 'how did he get in?' for I don't know, and I don't care! But he's the one who killed Mr. Pembroke, and he had his own motive for doing so, which we know nothing about."

"While all that may be true, Laura," I said, in a conciliatory way, for she was very much excited, "yet you must not make such positive statements, with so little to base them on. Leroy may have a guilty knowledge of the matter, but I don't believe he murdered Mr. Pembroke, and I do believe he's letting himself be suspected to shield Janet."

"Nothing of the sort," declared Laura; "he's a bad man! I don't have to see him twice to know that. And if he isn't guilty, and if he's letting himself be suspected,—then it's to implicate Janet and not to save her!"

"Laura, you're crazy. How could his implication also implicate her?"

"Why, don't you see? if they think Mr. Leroy committed the crime, they'll try to find out how he got in. And then they'll conclude that Janet let him in. Because you know, Otis, there was really no other way anybody could get in. And then, you see, they'll conclude that Mr. Leroy and Janet acted together, and are both guilty."

"Laura, you argue just like a woman; you say anything that comes into your head, and then back it up with some other absurd idea! Now, sister, talk to me in this strain all you want to, but let me beg of you never to say these things to anyone else."

Laura looked a little offended, but she was too fond of me ever really to resent anything I said to her, so she smiled, and forgave my aspersions on her reasoning powers.

But I couldn't help remembering that Janet had told me that Leroy was untrustworthy, and not entirely reliable, and now that Laura, with her woman's intuition, had denounced him, I began to wonder myself what sort of a man Leroy really was.