“Garry Gresham?”

“Yes—­the young lady’s brother.”

Leverage was bewildered.  “What in the world do you want with him?”

“I want him,” explained Carroll confidently—­“because Garry Gresham is the man who shot Warren!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED

Within an hour Garry Gresham appeared at headquarters in the company of
Cartwright.  The officer left the room and the three men were alone.

Gresham’s manner was nervous, but he showed no fright.  Leverage, regarding him keenly, found reason to doubt Carroll’s positive statement that Gresham was the person they sought.  The young man stood facing them bravely, waiting—­

“Gresham,” said Carroll softly, “Your sister is in that room yonder.  She read the afternoon paper—­the report that I knew who killed Roland Warren.  She immediately came here to give herself up.”

An expression of utter bewilderment crossed young Gresham’s face.  Then he started forward angrily:  “Why are you lying to me—­”

“Easy, Gresham—­easy there.  I am not lying to you.”

He saw Garry’s eyes dart to the door behind which the sister was seated.  “What did she give herself up for, Carroll?”

“For killing Roland Warren.”

Gresham took a firm grip on himself.  “She didn’t do it,” he stated positively.

“Of course not,” returned Carroll with equal assurance. “You did!  And so that you will be quite convinced that I am not trying to trick you into the confession which I am sure you will make—­” He crossed the room and flung open the door.  “Come in, please, Miss Gresham.”

The girl entered quietly—­then saw her brother.  Instantly her manner softened.  She stepped swiftly to his side and took his hand in hers.  “Please, Garry—­”

Gresham smiled; a tender, affectionate smile.

“Good scout, aren’t you, Sis?  But tell me,” his tone was conversational, “how did you know that I shot Roland Warren?”

“You didn’t!” She flung around on Carroll—­“Don’t believe him.  I shot Mr. Warren—­”

“I knew from the first that you didn’t do it, Miss Gresham.  I know that Miss Rogers spent the night with you.  More than that, I know the identity of the woman in the taxicab.”

“Who was she?” It was Gresham who questioned.

Carroll shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter who she was, Gresham.  We’re going to keep her name out of this case.  She was a woman who loved Roland Warren—­and his death saved her from a great mistake.  There’s no necessity to ruin her life, is there?”

“How did you know—­it was Garry—­who did the shooting?” asked the girl.

“The minute you confessed,” answered the detective quietly, “I knew that you were doing it to shield someone.  You could have had no possible motive for shielding either of the other two men under suspicion.  I knew that it must be your brother.  He had motive enough—­he knew that you were in love with Mr. Warren—­engaged to him.  He knew that Warren was about to elope with another woman, that it would cause you intense misery.  So he went to the station that night to prevent the elopement.  Isn’t that so, Gresham?”