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all from me. What have you got to say?”
“Nothing,” answered Hung Chin-chung.
Mark Drew came over and stood before the Chinaman. For a long moment the beady little eyes looked straight into those of the dead man’s son. Then, amazingly, they faltered, and Hung’s chin fell upon his breast.
“Hung,” said Drew, “I’m sorry—you must know that. But after all, Henry Drew was my father, and I was bound to find out who killed him if I could. Then, too, you had tried to involve an innocent man. I’m all at sea. I thought you were loyal to my father—I spoke of your loyalty here to-night. There can be no question of your guilt, but that does not solve the mystery for me. It only increases it. What, in heaven’s name, was the motive behind all this?”
We heard the front door open and the sound of footsteps in the hall. Riley,
