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simple wage as maid. I listen to Tarneverro’s alibi and feel certain he did not do murder himself. What, then, explains his actions? Natural inference for good detective would have been that he protects some one else. Who? I read in newspaper that Denny Mayo had wife. I discover Mayo was Tarneverro’s brother, and I hear that Mayo was slain by hand of Shelah Fane. Later—crowning touch—I am told Mayo’s wife encountered accident and can no longer follow profession. Do I put two and two together? Do I add up simple sum and get result? No—I fumble around—I flounder like decrepit fish—finally I slide into happy harbor of success.” He turned suddenly on Anna, standing pale and silent before him. “For I am in that harbor. It is true, is it not, madam? You killed Shelah Fane!”

“I did,” the woman answered.

“Don’t be a fool, Anna,” Tarneverro cried. “Fight it out.”

She gestured hopelessly. “What’s the use? I don’t care. I’ve nothing to live for—it doesn’t matter what becomes of me. Yes, I killed her. Why not? She——”

“Just a moment,” the Chief broke in. “Anything you say, you know, may be used against you.”

“You’re a little late with that, Chief,” Tarneverro said. “She should have a lawyer——”

“I don’t want one,” Anna went on sullenly. “I don’t want any help. I killed her—she robbed me of my husband—she wasn’t content to take his love—she ended by taking his life. I’ve had my revenge, and I’m willing to pay for it. I intend to plead guilty, and get it over with at once.”