the punishment of the murderer. While we all feel that such a crime should be avenged, I, myself, would rather never know the truth, than to expose all.”
“I understand and appreciate, Mr. Barham, your attitude, but I cannot look at it as you do. Moreover, the police are not willing to look at it in that light, either. Now, I must tell you, that I propose to go on with my investigations, and I will say right now, if you have any confession to make, or explanations to give, I should be glad to hear them. I am not antagonistic: on the contrary, I want to meet your wishes in so far as I can, but”
“Mr. Lane—I may as well say that I know who sent you here. I know whose doing it is that you have taken up this case. It is at the request of my dear friend, Mr. Nelson. He is doing it out of the best of motives—he thinks I am sacrificing myself for some one else.”
“And aren’t you?”
Andrew Barham smiled.
“Not exactly,” he said. “And yet,” he looked very grave, “if you delve too deeply into this matter, if you try too hard to discover the murderer of my wife—it will make”
He stopped abruptly, and seemed to draw back into himself as into a shell.
“I would rather say no more, Mr. Lane. If you want to question me I am quite prepared to answer.”
“Then, Mr. Barham, did you or did you not exchange the scarab that Mr. Hutchins showed you for another and less valuable one?”
“I did, Mr. Lane.”
“Will you tell me why you did that?”
“Because the valuable scarab was my own property, and I desired to have it again in my possession.”
