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 started upstairs, he saw it, somewhere about, and clapped it on his head by way of disguise.”

“Oh, you can make up fine-sounding gabble, but if you’d seen that chap, as I did, bending over that spot in the den—you’d know he was no burglar—he was Locke himself, or somebody who wanted to appear to be Locke.”

“You said that before,” and Hutchins grinned at Glenn, as he registered extreme weariness.

All the same, when Hutchins set out for his interview with Pearl Jane, he did carry the wig with him, and he did hope to learn something about it from the girl.

She didn’t want to see the detective at all, but he had told her over the telephone that she must, and that she must see him alone. He gave her no choice in the matter and advised her to be at home when he called, which would be immediately.

So he found her waiting for him, and, while she was calm, yet he could note an undercurrent of nervous excitement, and a frequent tremor of overwrought nerves.

“Now, Miss Cutler,” he began, not at all unkindly, but decidedly, “I can’t help feeling you’ve not been entirely frank with me when we have talked together. This time, I hope you will be—for I may as well tell you that unless you are, you may be questioned by other people who will not be so patient with you as I am.”

“What do you want to know?” and Pearl Jane struggled hard to preserve her composure.

“First—what did you take from the hand of the—of Mrs. Barham, that night as she lay on the floor of the smoking room?”

Pearl Jane grasped her throat to stifle a cry.

“Now, don’t do that,” and Hutchins spoke a bit sharply. “Hysterics won’t get you anywhere. You’ve tried them