"A remarkable character, Mr. Harley," he
said. "Your biggest difficulty at the moment is to fit Mr. Nicol
Brinn into the scheme."
"He won't fit at all, Innes! We come to the final and conclusive
item of evidence substantiating my theory of Sir Charles's
murder: Nicol Brinn believes he was murdered. Nicol Brinn has
known others, in his own words, 'to go the same way.' Yet Nicol
Brinn, a millionaire, a scholar, a sportsman, and a gentleman,
refuses to open his mouth."
"He is afraid of something."
"He is afraid of Fire-Tongue--whatever Fire-Tongue may be! I
never saw a man of proved courage more afraid in my life. He
prefers to court arrest for complicity in a murder rather than
tell what he knows!"
"It's unbelievable."
"It would be, Innes, if Nicol Brinn's fears were personal."
Paul Harley checked his steps in front of the watchful secretary
and gazed keenly into his eyes.
"Death has no terrors for Nicol Brinn," he said slowly. "All his
life he has toyed with danger. He admitted to me that during the
past seven years he had courted death. Isn't it plain enough,
Innes? If ever a man possessed all that the world had to offer,
Nicol Brinn is that man. In such a case and in such circumstances
what do we look for?"
Innes shook his head.
"We look for the woman!" snapped Paul Harley.
There came a rap at the door and Miss Smith, the typist, entered.
"Miss Phil Abingdon and Doctor McMurdoch," she said.
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