Sidney Prale waited in an adjoining office, a detective sitting in one corner of it and watching him closely. It was almost a prison room, for there were steel bars at the windows, and only the one door. Prale walked to one of the windows and looked down at the street, his arms folded across his breast, trying to think it out.
The finding of that fountain pen in the room beside Rufus Shepley's body was what puzzled and bothered him the most. How on earth could it have come there? He tried to remember when he had used it last, when he had last seen it. All that he could recall was that, the afternoon before, he had used it to write a note in a memorandum book. How and where had he lost it, and how had it come into Shepley's suite? Had he dropped it in the hotel lobby during his short quarrel with Shepley, while he was shaking the man? Had Shepley picked it up later and carried it home with him? Prale did not think Shepley would have done that under the circumstances.
Well, he'd be at liberty soon enough, he told himself. It was natural for the police to learn of his quarrel with Shepley and to make an arrest on the strength of that and of finding the fountain pen. His alibi was perfect; they soon would know that he could not have committed the crime.
It was almost an hour later when he was taken back into the other room again. Prale had spent the time standing before the window, smoking and trying to think things out. The captain of detectives was before his desk when Prale was ushered into the office.
"I've been investigating your story, Mr. Prale," the captain said, looking at him peculiarly. "It always has been a mystery to me why a man keen in business and supposed to possess brains goes to pieces when he commits a crime and tells a tale that is full of holes."
"I beg your pardon!" Prale said.
"Sit down, Mr. Prale, over there--and I'll have some of the witnesses in. I have not questioned them yet, but my men have, and have reported to me what they said. They have discovered several other things, too."
"I'm not afraid of anything they may have discovered," Prale told the captain.
"Last night, you told Jim Farland that you had had trouble with a bank, and at the hotel where you first registered after you came ashore, did you not?"
"Yes; don't those things bear out my statement about the powerful enemies?"
"We'll see presently," the captain said.
He spoke to the sergeant in attendance, who immediately left the room, and presently returned with the president of the trust company. He looked at Prale with interest, and took the chair the captain designated.
"You know this man?" the captain asked.
"I do," said the banker. "He is Sidney Prale."
"Ever have any business with him?"
"Mr. Prale transferred a fortune to our institution from Honduras," the banker said. "Yesterday he called at the bank, satisfied me as to his identity, and made arrangements concerning the money."
"Mr. Prale has said that, for some reason unknown to him, you told him you did not care to handle his business and didn't want his deposit," the captain said.
"I scarcely think that was the way of it," the banker replied. "We would have been glad to take care of the deposit, which was practically one million dollars. But Mr. Prale told me he had other plans and that he would remove the deposit during the day, which he did."
Sidney Prale sat up straight in his chair. "Didn't you tell me that you didn't want anything to do with me and my money?" he demanded.
"Certainly not," lied the banker. "You said that you wished to put your funds in other institutions."
Prale gasped at the man's statement. It was a bare-faced lie if one ever had been spoken.
"Why----" Prale began.
"I do not care to discuss the matter further," the banker interrupted. "I am a man of standing and cannot afford to be mixed up in a case of this sort."
"You'll not be mixed up in it," the captain said. "I just wanted to show Mr. Prale that there were some holes in his story. That is all, thank you!"
The banker left the room quickly, and Prale sprang to his feet, his face livid.
"That man lied!" he exclaimed. "You could read it in his face! I don't know why he lied, but he did!"
"Sit down, Mr. Prale, and let's have more witnesses in," the captain said.
Once more he spoke to the sergeant, and again the latter went out, this time to return with the manager of the first hotel at which Prale registered.
"Know this man?" the captain asked.
"He registered at my place as Sidney Prale, of Honduras."
"Well, what about it?"
"We furnished him with a suite on the fifth floor," the hotel manager said. "But he gave it up."
"Gave it up!" Prale cried. "Why, you called me into your office and told me to get out, that the suite has been reserved and that there was none vacant in the house. The bell boy can testify that he called me into the office."
"Certainly he called you into my office, and at my request," the manager said. "I wanted to know why you were leaving, whether any of the employees had treated you with discourtesy. You told me that you had been served poorly in the dining room the evening before, and that you were done with the hotel!"
Prale sprang to his feet. "That's a lie, and you know it!" he cried.
"Captain," said the hotel man, "do I have to sit here and be insulted by a man charged with a heinous crime?"
"That will be all, thank you," the captain said.
The hotel manager hurried from the room, and the captain grinned at Prale.
"So he lied, too, did he?" the captain asked.
"He did!" Prale cried.
"There seems to be an epidemic of falsehood, to hear you tell it. However, let us get on with the affair."
Once more he instructed the sergeant, and this time the man brought in the hotel detective who had witnessed the trouble between Prale and Shepley.
The hotel detective told the story much as Prale himself had told it, except that he made it appear that Prale had threatened Rufus Shepley on the walk in front of the hotel before they separated.
"Did you pick up a fountain pen of mine after I had gone?" Prale asked.
"I did not."
"See anybody else pick it up?"
"No, sir," said the hotel detective; and he went out of the room.
The sergeant next ushered in George Lerton. Prale sat up straight in his chair again. Here was where his proper alibi began, with the exception of Jim Farland. George Lerton's face was pale as he sat down at the end of the desk.
"Know this man?" the captain asked.
"He is my cousin, Sidney Prale."
"How long has he been away from New York?"
"About ten years," Lerton said. "He returned day before yesterday, I believe. I saw his name in the passenger list."
"Mr. Prale says that he met you last night on Fifth Avenue, and that you told him he had some powerful enemies seeking to cause him trouble, and advised him to leave New York and remain away."
"Why--why this is not so!" Lerton cried. "I haven't seen him until this moment. I would have looked him up, but did not know at what hotel he was stopping, and thought that he'd try to find me."
Prale was out of his chair again, his face flaming. "You mean to sit there and tell me that you didn't talk to me on Fifth Avenue last night?" he cried.
"Why, of course I never talked to you, Sid. I never saw you. What are you trying to do, Sid? Why have you done this thing? We never were close to each other, and yet we are cousins, and I hate to see you in trouble."
"Stop your hypocritical sniveling!" Prale cried. "You are lying and you know it! You saw me last night----"
"But I didn't!"
"You did--and tried to get me to run away, and wouldn't tell me your reason for it."
George Lerton licked at his lips and looked appealingly at the captain of detectives.
"I--I am a man of standing," he whimpered. "I am a broker--here is my card. This man is my cousin, but I cannot lie to shield him. I never saw him last night, and did not speak to him."
Lerton got up and started for the door, and Sidney Prale did not make a move to stop him.
"It appears that your story is full of flaws," the captain said. "A little of it is true, however; you did meet Jim Farland and talk to him in Madison Square, and remained for the length of time you said. Jim has told me that much. But he does not know where you went and what you did after leaving him. What we are interested in is what you did in the neighborhood of eleven o'clock last night. That is when Rufus Shepley was killed. And now we'll have in that new valet of yours."
There was a snarl on Murk's face as he came into the room and sat down in the chair at the end of the desk. Murk did not like policemen and detectives, and did not care whether they knew of his dislike. He flashed a glance at Sidney Prale and then faced the captain.
"Well, what is it?" he asked.
"Tell us where and how you met Mr. Prale first, what happened, and bring the story right up to date," the captain commanded.
"Well, I went down to the river to jump in," Murk said, as if stating a simple fact. "I was tired of fightin' to live and had decided to end it all. Mr. Prale grabbed me and hauled me back, and then he made me see that suicide was foolish. He offered me a job, and I agreed to take it. He was the first man who had treated me decent since I----"
"Never mind that; get down to cases."
"Well, we walked up the street and got a taxicab and drove downtown, and Mr. Prale bought me some clothes."
"What time was it when you met him?"
"I guess it was about ten o'clock. We bought the clothes, as I said, and then we went to a barber shop, and I got a hair cut and a shave. After that we went to Mr. Prale's hotel and up to his rooms. We got to bed pretty quick."
"What time did you reach the hotel?"
"About midnight."
"What happened after you went to bed?"
"Went to sleep," said Murk.
"Never mind the jokes," the captain rebuked sternly.
"Well, I stayed awake about an hour or so thinking how lucky I was, and then I went to sleep. I woke up early in the mornin' and got up and dressed. Mr. Prale got up later, and we ate breakfast in the suite. Then the cops came. One of them took Mr. Prale away, and he told me to stay in the rooms until sent for. The other cop rummaged around the rooms and then left."
Prale bent forward. "There is one man who can speak the truth," he told the captain. "His story corresponds with the one I told you, doesn't it? And doesn't it show that I could not have murdered Rufus Shepley at eleven o'clock last night?"
"The story is all right, and it certainly corresponds with yours," replied the captain. "Just a minute!" He faced Murk again. "Who are you and where did you come from?" he demanded.
"I ain't anybody in particular. I've been hangin' around town a couple of months doin' odd jobs. Before that I was bummin' around the country workin' whenever I got a chance."
"You felt grateful to Mr. Prale for giving you a job and a home, didn't you?"
"Sure!" said Murk. "He talked to me decent, like I was a man instead of a dog."
"Well, you don't seem to have much standing in the world," the captain said. "Your word, against that of several prominent citizens, does not carry much weight. You must see that. And there happens to be something else, too. I had the clothing merchant and the barber you mentioned look you over while you were in the other room. The clothing merchant says he sold some clothes a couple of days ago, the ones you are wearing now, but that he certainly did not sell them last night, and the barber swears that he never saw you before!"
"Why, the dirty liars!" Murk cried.
"Did they say that?" Prale demanded.
"They did," the captain replied. "And they said it in such a way that I believe them. Prale, your alibi is shot full of holes. You told the truth about meeting Jim Farland, and that much is in your favor. Aside from that, we have only the testimony of a tramp you said you picked up and gave a job. You had plenty of time to kill Rufus Shepley. You had ample time to concoct the story and get this man to learn it, so he could tell it and match yours. You are worth a million dollars, and this man probably was ready to lie a little for a wad of money."
"He tells the truth----"
"It's too thin, Prale! And don't forget the fountain pen that was found beside Shepley's body, either! As for you Murk, or whatever your right name is, you are under suspicion yourself."
"What's that?" Murk snarled.
"You are under suspicion, I said. You might have assisted at the murder, for all I know. I don't know when you met Mr. Prale, or where, but I do know that you got back to the hotel with Mr. Prale about midnight--an hour after the crime was committed."
"You can't hang anything like that on me!" Murk snarled. "All the cops in the world can't do it! I met Mr. Prale just like I said, and he bought me the clothes and took me to the barber shop, no matter what the store man and the barber say! It's a black lie they're tellin'! Mr. Prale is a gentleman----"
"That'll be enough!" the captain exclaimed. "I'm going to allow you to go, Murk, but you are to remain in Mr. Prale's rooms and take care of his things. And you can bet that you'll be watched, too."
"I don't care who watches me!"
"As for you, Mr. Prale, you'll have to go to a cell, I think. The evidence against you is such that I cannot turn you loose. You must realize that yourself."
Prale realized it. His face was white and his hands were shaking. He looked across the room at Murk.
"You go back to the hotel, Murk, and do as the captain says," he ordered. "I'll come out of this all right in time. There are a lot of things I cannot understand, but we'll solve the puzzle before we're done."
"Ain't there anything I can do, sir?" Murk asked.
"Perhaps, later. I'll engage a detective and a lawyer, and they may visit you at the hotel. I'll send you money by the lawyer. That's all now, Murk."
Murk started to speak, then thought better of it and went from the room slowly, anger flushing his face. Sidney Prale faced the captain of detectives again.
"No matter what you think, I am innocent, and know that my innocence can be proved," Prale said. "You are only doing your duty, of course. I want Jim Farland to attend to things for me. He is an old friend of mine and he is an honest man. Will you send for him?"
"He's waiting in the other room now," the captain said. "I'll let you have a conference with him before I order you into a cell!"
