“No-o.  Not yet.  He may not have done it—­”

“Well,” sizzled the chief of police, “if he didn’t and Barker didn’t—­who the devil did?”

Carroll shook his head hopelessly.  “I don’t know, Eric.  If neither of those two men did, we’ll be left hopelessly in the air.”

“Exactly.  We know that one of ’em did the shooting.  We’ve covered this case from every angle, and if we believe that the shooting was not done by Mrs. Lawrence, we must suspect one of the two men involved.  And if you are sure it wasn’t Barker—­”

“Let’s wait a little while longer,” counseled Carroll.  “I want to be absolutely sure of my ground.”

The two men sat in Leverage’s office and talked.  They discussed the case again from the beginning to its present status—­threshing out each detail in the hope that they might have overlooked some vital fact which would give them a basis upon which to proceed.  Their efforts were fruitless.  The investigation had developed results—­true enough—­but those results were not at all satisfactory.

And it was about an hour later that a knock came on the door.  In response to Leverage’s summons, an orderly entered.  In his hand he carried an evening paper—­

“Just brought this in, sir.  Thought you and Mr. Carroll might like to read it.”

The orderly retired.  Carroll spread the paper—­then did something very rare.  He swore profoundly.  His eyes focused angrily on the enormous first page headlines: 

“CARROLL HAS SOLVED WARREN MYSTERY

“Identity of Clubman’s Slayer Known to Famous Detective

“WILL MAKE ARREST WITHIN 24 HOURS

“Sensational Developments Promised by David Carroll in Exclusive Interview with Reporter for The Star.”

It all came back to Carroll now.  The eager reporter, the news-hunger, his non-committal statements.  He read furiously through the story.  It proved to be one of those newspaper masterpieces which uses an enormous number of words and says nothing.  Carroll was quoted as saying only what he had actually said.  It was the personal conjecture of the reporter writing the story which had given spur to the vivid imagination of the headline writer.

“So now,” questioned Leverage—­“what are you going to do:  deny it?”

“No!” snapped Carroll—­“I can’t.  He hasn’t misquoted a single line of what I said.  It just makes things—­makes ’em mighty embarrassing.”

He sat hunched in his chair staring at the screaming headlines and re-reading the lurid story.  Again an orderly entered.

“Young lady out there,” he announced, “who wants to know if Mr. Carroll is here.”

Instantly the mind of the detective leaped to the tragic figure of Naomi Lawrence.  “She wants to see me?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir.”

“Show her in.”  He motioned to Leverage to remain.  The orderly disappeared—­and in a minute, the door opened and a woman entered.  Carroll sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise.