“This gentleman has come to give Miss Langmore some advice,” said Raymond Case.  “If we want you we will call.”

“But I have orders—­”

“Miss Langmore will remain in this room, so you have nothing to fear.  She has a legal right to receive advice.”

“Oh, if the gentleman is a lawyer I have nothing to say,” was the retort, and Mrs. Morse swept from the room.

The instant she was gone, the young man closed the door and then rushed up to Margaret Langmore and kissed her.

“I have succeeded!” he cried.  “I told you I would.  This is Mr. Adam Adams.  Mr. Adams, this is Miss Margaret Langmore.  Now, I guess we are going to show these country bumpkins a thing or two!” he added earnestly.

The detective advanced and shook hands.  Margaret Langmore was a trifle disappointed in his appearance and her face clouded for an instant.  Raymond was quick to notice it.

“You mustn’t judge a man by his appearance.  Mr. Adams makes himself look that way on purpose.  He’s the smartest, swiftest—­”

“That will do,” interrupted the detective with a brief smile.

“Will you help me?” The girl eyed the detective squarely.  “I—­I need help so much.”

“I must hear your story first.”

“Oh, I thought Raymond would tell you everything.”

“He has told me all he knows.  But I want to hear the story from your own lips.  Something may have slipped him, you know.”

“I will tell you everything.  Please sit down.”

Margaret Langmore began her narrative.  It was fully an hour before she finished.  Occasionally the detective asked a question, but for the most part he sat back with his eyes closed, as if thinking of something else.

“Now, Miss Langmore,” he exclaimed, as he straightened up at the conclusion of her recital, “whom do you suspect of this crime?”

“I suspect no one, sir.”

“Have you any idea why this awful deed was committed?” The detective had been on the point of saying “murder” but had checked himself.

“Not the least in the world.”

“Some of the windows were, of course, open.  What of the doors?”

“The front door and that to the side piazza were locked.  The back door was open.”

“Then a person might have sneaked in by the back way?”

“I presume so.”

“Your father was quite dead when you found him?” asked the detective quickly.

“I—­I—­thought so.”  The girl began to choke up and sob.  “It—­it was such a shock—­I—­I—­” She could not go on.

Adam Adams watched her keenly and noted how she trembled from head to foot.

“Do not take it so hard, Margaret,” put in Raymond Case, placing his hand upon her shoulder.  “It will all come out right in the end—­I am sure of it.”

“But it will not bring back my father!” sobbed the girl.  “And he was so dear to me!  And to think that we should quarrel at all—­”